The Bleeding Eden
by toujouruspur
Summary: Gruesome circumstances lead Draco Malfoy to Grimmauld Place. Injured under suspicious circumstances and weakened in the wake, Draco has no choice but to try and befriend his new housemates, even Harry. However, in Harry, he wants more than just a friend
1. The Blonde and the Burrow

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard explained in the rehash section.

**Rehash: **I didn't want to completely disregard the sixth book, but I did want Dumbledore alive so here's what I settled on. Everything in the sixth book happened except that when Snape aimed the death spell at Dumbledore, he missed on purpose and fled the school. They still discovered that the locket from the cave was a fake and Ginny and Harry still split up. I think that about covers it…so yeah, enjoy.

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**Chapter One: The Blonde and the Burrow**

Harry potter woke with a smile on his face without any recollection of why it might be there. He supposed it had something to do with his dreams. It was odd, the one place that seemed to provide nothing but turmoil had now become the only place in his life that wasn't tumultuous. His smile faltered at this thought, and when he remembered the things in his life that made it tumultuous, it faded all together. He opened his eyes to the blurry world and reached around on the floor for his glasses. His hand recoiled as it touched the cold hardwood, but he found them and quickly put them on.

It was the same room he'd woken up to for nearly two months now. Black burgundy planks on the floor, long black curtains that blew whether the window was open or not, two cherry wood beds (one his, one empty). It was bittersweet opening his eyes to the room each morning. Good because he knew that he was nowhere near number four, Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey; and bad because he knew that just over a year ago, his godfather had been alive and sleeping in the bed that now laid empty. It was all he could do to try and research as much as possible to put a stop to Voldemort; the cause that Sirius had died fighting.

He heaved a heavy sigh and a familiar headache threatened him from behind his eyes. Hermione, research, and horcrux; the three words sure to set him of at brief mention. After all the information Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, had given him last year about horcruxes, he'd been researching nonstop since he arrived at Grimmauld place in the middle of June. Hermione, who had come to stay as well to help the order research spells, had now adopted Harry's "horcrux problem" as her new personal mission: find out what the horcruxes are, and kill Harry in the process. He knew she meant well, but if it wasn't for Ron he didn't think he'd still be alive.

The smile returned. Ron; his best friend. The tall red-head had also been helping the order, though not at Grimmauld Place. He left each morning with his father to work in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. While there, however, his work strayed greatly from muggle trinkets; more toward reviewing battle strategy with Kingsley and Tonks (two aurors). Finally, Harry thought, a good use for his chess skills.

Thinking that he was not quite ready to get up and that he would never be ready to start research with Hermione again, he decided it might be time to slip back to sleep. He made to remove his glasses, but the instant he felt the familiar frame on his fingertips an alarm sounded from the floor below him. Suddenly, the quiet morning was alive with sound: people running and yelling, Mrs. Black shouting her complaints about mudbloods, and a deafening siren ringing from the front lawn. Harry grasped his wand and jumped out of bed, nearly colliding into Hermione as he burst out the door.

"What's going on?" he asked, having to yell to make himself heard.

"Not sure!" she yelled back, pulling out her wand as they went down stairs two at a time. "I was in the family archives and I heard it, but it can only mean one thing, can it? Intruders at the apparition point."

"I thought this place was protected by the Fidelus charm?" He was referring to the spell that concealed a place from ordinary people, making itself visible only when the "secret keeper" told a person of its whereabouts.

"It is, so I'm not really sure what's happening." They had reached the bottom floor, Mrs. Black's voice now muffled slightly as Tonks tried desperately to magic the curtains over her portrait closed. Lupin ran by them, followed by Mad Eye Moody and Mr. Weasley who came running out of the kitchen. Before the kitchen door swung closed behind them, Harry caught a glimpse of Mrs. Weasley standing white-faced in her apron, staring after them.

As Harry and Hermione reached the door, ready to jump over the threshold, strong hands grasped them both on their shoulders and pushed them to either side of the door causing them to stumble backwards. They looked up and saw Mad Eye who said roughly "You stay here." Neither of them had an opportunity to protest before he and those following him were out the door.

"Come on!" Hermione said, scrambling to her feet, "we'll be able to see from the second story balcony!" Harry stood and ran after her, up the stairs they had just come down. On the second floor landing they tore down a hallway, past Harry's bedroom door, Hermione's, Ron's, Ginny's, and a spare to the end where two glass-paned doors separated the hallway from the balcony.

Halfway to them, Hermione had said, "_Alohomora"_ so that when they reached them they had already moved out of the way. Hermione stopped quickly but Harry practically threw himself onto the stone railing as he peered over at the scene below them. Immediately, his heart slowed.

There was no fighting, in fact some of the people seemed to be heading inside, including a disgruntled Moody who said something that sounded like "Damn grease—ball."

Confused, Harry looked to the majority of the people who were standing, wands pocketed, in a circle around a bush he knew to be the apparition point. Hermione, from her position a few feet down from Harry, gasped. "What! What is it?" he said, anxiously, moving to where she stood to see. He saw it to. Severus Snape, potions master and absolute git, holding someone Harry couldn't quite make out.

"Who is it?" he asked Hermione, "who's he with?" While Harry thought Snape was a traitor, the house did not and it wouldn't go off if it was just him; the alarm went off because of whoever Snape was holding. From the way the dark shape slumped in the potion master's arms, it was clear he or she was unconscious.

"Think it's safe to go back down, Hermione?"

"Yes, let's," she said, tearing her eyes away from a vain attempt at unveiling the mystery person. When they made it downstairs, this time at a much slower pace, the last of the aurors were coming inside and Remus closed the door behind himself. Snape was no where to be seen.

"What happened? Who was that?"

"Severus," Lupin said, running a hand through his thinning hair.

"I know, but—" Harry realized that, despite the fact that no one was shouting, the alarm was off and Mrs. Black had contained herself, he was still yelling. He lowered his voice. "Sorry. I mean, who was with him?"

"Ah," Lupin said, looking suddenly nervous. "Well that's of no concern."

"As if telling us it's of 'no concern' would abate our curiosity," Hermione said, incredulously. "Just tell us."

"It's really not—"

"Remus!"

"—of any concern and—"

"Remus!"

"—I don't think it's important that—"

"REMUS!"

A sigh, and then, "fine." He turned to face them. "Severus brought a badly injured classmate of yours."

"Who?"

"Draco Malfoy," he said in a tiny voice, and then he turned and walked up the stairs, presumably towards his room.

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"Remus, open up! I'm not going to go away until you do!" Harry shouted, pounding on one of the many cedar doors that lined the fourth floor hallway. Remus obliged, looking tired. It only took five minutes of pounding and yelling, but finally it had paid off.

"Don't ever let anyone tell you that perseverance is one of your weak points, Harry," he said as he moved to let him in. "Oh, and miss Granger as well," he added as the bushy haired girl followed Harry into the room.

"Hello, Remus," she said quietly, not looking up. From her awkward disposition it was clear to Lupin that she was caught between her desire to not impose on others and her desire to know everything. The latter, it seemed, had won; but only by a little bit. Harry was standing looking at him when Remus turned around, but Hermione had seated herself in a chair by the window and was looking out of it distractedly.

"What is it, Harry?"

"What is it?" he repeated, flabbergasted. "What is it?"

"Yes, what is it."

"Why the hell is Draco bloody Malfoy in my house?"

The words stung Lupin on a level Harry could never have seen. It was _Harry's_ house now, not Sirius'…Sirius was dead. "I don't know, Harry, it wasn't me who brought him here."

"Snape didn't say anything? He just showed up with…_him_…in his arms and waltzed on into the house without explanation?"

"All I heard Severus say was that the boy was badly injured and that this was the only place he thought to take him."

"Why not Hogwarts?" Hermione inquired from her window-side perch.

"I'm not sure…I suppose because the events of last June are still fresh in his memory. It would not be best for Mr. Malfoy to return to Hogwarts without at least a conversation with Dumbledore, would it?"

"I suppose not," said Harry, still angry but no longer fuming, "but why did he have to come here? Doesn't Snape have a home?"

"No, as a matter of fact he does not. It was destroyed almost a year ago when the death eaters blew up a bridge in London. Parts of the debris crushed his home."

"Snape lived in muggle London?" Harry asked, now more confused than angry. "I thought he hated muggles?"

"No, he does not."

"But he's a death eater!"

"No, he is not."

Harry sighed; apparently they were all still pretending that Snape was on their side. "Fine, but he's still a pureblood!"

"Not all purebloods are bigots, Harry. Tonks is and she and Hermione are fantastic friends. Speaking of which, Hermione, I'm glad you came." She turned to face him. "I know that the youngest Malfoy isn't exactly friends with you all," Harry scoffed at the understatement but Lupin continued, "but please try and disregard his comments."

"You say that like you know he's going to offer them," Harry said.

"I'm sure he will, but I'm asking you, Hermione, and you too, Harry, to ignore them and do your best to at least remain neutral."

Harry gaped at him. "I can't even believe you're saying this! Do you know what he's—"

"I'm fully aware of the situation, Harry, and in spite of that I'm asking this of you. Shouldn't that tell you that I have a very, _very_ good reason for requesting this?"

"I suppose," he muttered, resentfully. Lupin was many things, but irrational was never one of them.

"Treat him as you treat Severus; ignore him when you can, but when you can't be civil."

"I still think this is—"

But Hermione cut him off. "Come on, Harry, it's time we left," she said, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to the door. "Thank you for the explanations, Remus."

He nodded his head in understanding, and they left.

"Come on, I had more questions!"

"I know you did, that's why I pulled you out."

"You confuse me, Hermione,"

"Lupin told you all he knew, or at least all he wanted you to know. Pressing him further would be rude and inconsiderate."

"Ok, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione ignored the comment as she steered him further to the stairwell. "I think breakfast should be ready now; let's get some and hit the books, shall we?"

"Oh yes, lets!" Harry said with mock enthusiasm.

"I think Ron's rubbing off on you…"

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They arrived at breakfast to find that they were the only ones, aside from Mrs. Weasley, in the kitchen. Harry thought that by now the shock of that morning's events would have faded, but the elderly woman still looked as white as a sheet, the same way she'd been when Harry saw her while dashing for the door.

"Mrs. Weasley…" he said carefully as she set dishes with sausages and eggs on the table, "are you alright?"

"Oh yes Harry, dear, you just eat up."

He was amazed at how cheery her voice was when compared to her appearance. "Are you sure, because you seem—"

She broke out into a storm of sobs and collapsed into one of the chairs. As she leaned over the table, reddened face pressing and contorting against the marble surface as she laid her head on it, Harry and Hermione rushed to either side of her.

"Mrs. Weasley, what is it?" Hermione asked, looking concerned.

"Trouble with Percy?" Harry offered. At this, she sobbed harder and Hermione gave him a reproachful glare.

"You're so tactless, Harry!"

"No, it's alright," said Mrs. Weasley, tears slowing, "he's just concerned. It's just…I…there!" she said, pointing at a tear-soaked pile of parchments on the counter before she dissolved into tears once more. Harry crossed the way and picked up the Daily Prophet while Hermione continued to hold and rock a distressful Mrs. Weasley.

Harry's jaw dropped when he saw a picture of the burrow, complete with magically added rooms and yard littered with old Wellington boots, burning; underneath it, the article header proclaimed: DEATH EATERS TARGET HOMES OF "BLOOD-TRAITOR" FAMILIES. Harry read on.

_A harsh reminder was sent to the citizens of the wizarding world this morning when the residences of several pureblood families were destroyed: Death eaters do not just target muggles. The homes of the Brown, Longbottom, and Weasley families (all of whom are pure-blooded), were burnt to the ground at the hands of several death eaters, the servants of he who must not be named. _

_It is a common misconception by wizards and witches alike that the death eaters are seeking to destroy non-magical peoples only. In reality, he who must not be named and his followers have set out to destroy anyone who is not at least half-blood in addition to pureblood families who's members have married muggles. These families, deemed "blood traitors" by the death eaters, are also part of the crowd the dark forces have targeted. _

_There are, of course, other "blood traitor" families, who's homes have not yet been attacked; the Ministry of Magic is working feverishly to ensure that—_

Harry stopped reading, a sickening wave of sadness sweeping through him as he looked over at the sobbing woman with understanding. Hermione, looking to him confused, asked, "what is it, Harry? What's happened?"

He ignored her. "Mrs. Weasley, you have to know that you're welcome to stay here, right?"

The woman flung herself up from the table, nearly knocking Hermione to the floor, and gripped Harry in a hug that made him think of Hagrid. "Oh, Harry! I don't know what this family would do without you," she said, speaking into the crook of his neck and shoulder. "You've saved Ginny, Arthur, and Ron…now you've given us all a home." Harry blushed, thankful that she wasn't looking at him so he didn't have to divert his gaze. "Thank you, Harry. Thank you!"

She sobbed for a little while longer before composing herself and dragging Harry and Hermione to their seats. "Now…who's ready for breakfast? I've made eggs."


	2. The Busy and Most Crowded House of Black

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Draco arrived at Grimmauld Place in the arms of Severus Snape, badly beaten; the Weasley's Burrow was burned to the ground by Death Eaters.

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**Chapter Two: The Busy and Most Crowded House of Black**

"I suppose I don't need to remind you that this is entirely your fault. Or do I? Your memory has seemingly become a bit lax, as of late."

"Do not speak to me in that way, woman, I'm still your husband."

Narcissa Malfoy shivered; it frightened her that she could not hear her husband speak without having this reaction. In an attempt to hide it, she strode elegantly towards the window, the ends of her emerald dress robes caressing the floor. As she looked out upon the fields three stories below her, knowing that it all belonged to her, she felt a deep sadness. It seemed a waste to her to have so much land and nothing on it. It was as if the land simply served as a barrier between her family and the rest of the word; between _her_ and the rest of the world. The effect only made the home feel more like a prison.

"This is not my fault, Narcissa; it was his decision to join the dark lord."

"And what does he know of such things?" she snapped, turning to face him once more. The light pouring through behind her seemed to make her glow while at the same time casting her finer features into shadow. "He knows of the consequences? He knows of the reality and gravity of such a decision?"

"He has seen me in service."

"Yes, he _has_ seen you in service. You! Not an average servant of this 'lord'. I know it, so you must know it as well; that man doesn't treat his followers equally. You are clearly one of his most favored; but what reason would he have to favor Draco?"

"He is my son; he is of my family."

"What does Voldemort think of family?" She was shouting now. "He killed his! What makes you think he wouldn't kill ours?"

"I am valuable, therefore my assets are his assets."

"Assets? Is that how you see us?" She was but a foot from him now. "Property to be bargained with as collateral for your life? Insurance that you will remain his closest servant?"

"I see you as something I value."

"Bullshit!" It was unlike her to resort to this kind of language; even Lucius was taken aback. "You're nothing but another slave to that man! You're his _servant_! You do what he tells you and get nothing in return. I never would have thought, when I married you, that a man so focused on his share of things would become some man's whore!"

It happened in an instant; a slap, a ringing, a searing pain, a red impression, and Narcissa's head looking to the side. She turned it to look at him once more and was not surprised to see the lack of remorse in her husband's cruel grey eyes; and he was not surprised to see the lack of fear in her icy blue ones. The hit had knocked a few portions of her hair out of its elegant knot and they now swung back and forth over her face, like a pendulum counting down the silent seconds.

She said nothing, and turned to leave the room. Things went back to the way they should be; Lucius doing as he pleased, endangering their "family", and Narcissa standing obediently at his side. Like a servant. Like a slave.

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"So he brought him here?" The red-haired boy, towering above Harry and Hermione who were seated on the bed, looked incredulous. His arms flew out to either side, questioning, "why?"

"That's what I asked!" Harry said, "But Lupin didn't really tell us anything. He just said that it wasn't right to go back to Hogwarts before speaking with Dumbledore."

"Then why didn't he take him to _his_ house?"

Hermione cut in before Harry could explain again about Snape's house getting destroyed. "Oh, honestly, you two! Listening to you, one might think this was the first time we've had this conversation. It's been fifteen minutes and all you're doing is saying the same things over and over!"

"Well what do you suppose we should talk about?"

"How about something important? We didn't get as much research done today as we usually do,"

"—thank god—"

"—so maybe we should talk a little about what we know and try and draw conclusions?"

The door opened and Ginny came in, looking crestfallen.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" Harry was worried that she might have found out about the house. Mrs. Weasley had said that she was planning on waiting until Arthur and Ron got home and the twins came for dinner, but perhaps the news had slipped out early.

"Dean dumped me!" she said, falling at Harry's side. Instinctively, he put an arm around her. She wasn't crying, but it was obvious she was close.

"Sorry Ginny…" Hermione said, looking sympathetic.

"You've got Ron, why are you sorry?"

Her bluntness made Hermione blush and Ron look away. "I've got Ron now, but how many years was it before I did? I know what you're going through, Ginny."

"I know, I'm sorry…I guess it's a good thing. I mean, we really didn't see eye-to-eye on a lot of things…and he _was_ kind of immature."

"You know who's _not_ immature?" Ron asked, "Harry."

Harry withdrew his arm, feeling awkward, and Ginny's sadness evaporated into fury. "Ronald! How many times am I going to have to tell you? Harry and I are _not_ going out any more!"

"I'm just saying that—"

"We broke up for a _reason_, Ron!"

"I know, but it was a stupid one!" he said, pleadingly. "I mean, come on! You're in a house that's unfindable! Who cares if you know who wants to kill her? He can't, can he?"

"Ron…I…" Hermione, evidently at a loss for words, quieted.

"There are other reasons, Ron, and just because we don't share them with you doesn't mean they aren't there!" Ginny said, angrily.

"Other reasons…?" Harry asked, blushing slightly. "Like what?"

"Are you sure you want to have this conversation now…" Ginny asked, with a nervous glance towards Ron and Hermione.

"They'll get it out of me later, you might as well."

"Well…you know, we just didn't get a lot of time together did we? You were always in meetings with Dumbledore, or studying, or managing a Quiditch team or spending time in the hospital wing…we just didn't get much time to ourselves."

"Well that's no reason to break up!" Hermione said, having apparently found her voice once more. "Ron and I are both extremely busy but we're still together."

"Well…like I said, it was _reasons, _not _reason_. There was the time thing plus there was the…intimacy thing."

"What 'intimacy thing'," asked Harry, not sure if he wanted to know.

"Well…you never really did much. I mean, whenever we would do anything it was always me who started it…I felt like I was begging."

"Well maybe Harry was trying to be kinky?"

"Ron, stop trying to defend me, you're making it worse."

"I don't mean it like that! I just mean…it's like you weren't really into it. I mean…we could be doing something and it's like you would just stop reacting. You'd go somewhere else and there was nothing I could do to bring you back."

"You got up and left when you two were being intimate?" Ron asked, aghast.

"Not literally, Ronald. He just…faded off mentally. Like he was preoccupied. So I guess it was like even when I _did_ have time with you…I wasn't really _with _you."

"I understand," Harry said, and he meant it. However it was obvious to the other three that he was nonetheless embarrassed and almost hurt by the news. Evidentially because he thought he had ended it on his terms, but really he hadn't.

Seeing his struggle, Hermione offered, "Let's go down to dinner, shall we?"

"Good!" said Ron, mind easily changing topics from depressing breakup to food. "I'm starved!"

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Ginny stood from the table and silently left the room. Mrs. Weasley called after her, but for the first time in Harry's recollection, the youngest Weasley did not listen to her mother. Mrs. Weasley sighed, letting her go, and put a hand to rub a weary temple.

"Was anyone there when…it happened?" Ron asked, as Hermione clenched his hand in hers.

"No, thankfully. But still…so many of our things were destroyed, Ron."

"Yeah, I know…"

"But you'll be able to get a new house," Harry said, the same thing he'd been saying since this dismal conversation began. The twins hadn't been able to come to dinner that night, and he made a mental note to avoid it when they did.

"Harry, dear, I've told you! We don't have the _money_."

"I'm sure Fred and George will help, they're making loads off of their business now, aren't they?" He would have liked to have said _"I'll pay for it, Mrs. Weasley"_ but he refrained. With the money his parents had left him sitting in Gringotts banks and accumulating interest for seventeen years, he could easily have afforded it; however he knew by now that the Weasleys were a proud family who would not accept charity from others.

"No, that's their money that they earned." Or apparently from each other.

"They won't take that," Ron said, "you know they're going to force it on us. If you won't take the money, they'll probably just go by a house without you and force you into it."

A bell sounded from the front lawn; not the siren that had sounded earlier that morning, not a warning, but a bell alerting the residents of Grimmauld Place that aurors were arriving for a meeting. "Well, you'd better go dears," Mrs. Weasley said, wiping her eyes and standing. "The meeting needs to begin shortly, we're in a bit of a time crunch."

They stood and left without further prodding.

"I can't believe they burned down my house…"

"I know, Ron, I'm so sorry." Ron wrapped an arm around Hermione to let her know that her sympathy was appreciated.

"I'm not really surprised," Harry said, walking beside them because the enormous stairway permitted it. "I mean…there hasn't been a muggle attack in ages, they were bound to attack someone sooner or later."

"I think I'm done talking about this for a while," Ron said. It was an odd thing to hear his voice so downtrodden, as the freckled Weasley was usually a source of endless silver linings.

"Good idea. Ron, since you're home early, you can help Harry and me research. I've got an idea that might prove promising. It seems that when the founders started the school, Salazar Slytherin…" Harry and Ron weren't listening.

They spent hours in the Black family archives looking over books they hadn't yet covered. The library was immense, but the topics were limited; pureblood family lineage and traditions and dark arts. Here and there one of them would find a tome about spell damage reversal or ancient magical creatures but for the most part, the research was monotonous.

Later that evening, when Harry had piled books so high on every side of him that he now needed to spell the books off of their shelves, he heard someone calling him. With a flick of his wand, the books moved aside, and he was thankful for the thousandth time that summer that the Ministry couldn't detect underage magic in a Fidelus charmed house. Then he remembered; he was seventeen, it didn't matter. Old habits died hard, he supposed. It would be a while before he stopped worrying over such things.

"Yes? Who is it?" Remus' head popped up in the opening of Harry's book fortress. "Oh, hey," he said, as Remus stepped into the circle to sit next to Harry.

"Harry," he said brightly, "working hard I see."

"Yeah, Ron and Hermione are around here somewhere too."

"I'm glad to see they're helping you, but also glad to see that you're alone, I need to talk with you privately." He pulled out his wand and muttered "_Muffilato"_, a spell Harry recognized that made others that might be around them unable to hear their conversation.

"You really do want to ensure privacy."

"Well, I feel this is a matter that you would handle better than Ron. Hermione could do well by it too, perhaps, but I didn't feel it was fair of me to ask her to conceal things from her boyfriend." Harry nodded. "It's about Mr. Malfoy."

"Good news, I hope? Like Madame Pompfrey fixed him up and he's ready to get the hell out of my house?"

"Well, Madame Pompfrey _did_ fix him up, however in the process we've strung together a story that's well…disturbing to say the least." Harry said nothing, so Lupin continued. "A good mediwitch, like Poppy, is able to see magical signatures when a harmful spell is cast. It's almost as if the caster leaves behind some magical residue when they cast a spell, and Poppy was able to recognize some of the ones left on Mr. Malfoy."

"Who were they?"

"She recognized Crabbe, Goyle—"

"But they love Malfoy!"

"Not them, their fathers. Also McNair, Lestrange, and even some of Voldemort himself."

Harry's mouth dropped. "The death eaters? The _death eaters_ attacked him?"

"Looks like it. With what Poppy has told us and the information Severus has given us, it seems that Voldemort wasn't pleased about Mr. Malfoy failing his mission at the end of last year."

"He let a squad of death eaters into Hogwarts, one of the most protected buildings in the wizarding world, and Voldemort sees that as a failure?"

"Yes, because letting the death eaters in wasn't Mr. Malfoy's mission. He was supposed to kill Dumbledore."

"So they tortured him."

"Yes, we think so. And not just any of the death eaters, some of them were his own family. His aunt Bellatrix, for example, and even his own father."

As much as Malfoy had teased and joked on Harry and his friends, he could not help but feel sorry for the boy now lying somewhere, presumably, in his house. He had spent his entire life without a father, but how would it be to have a father and have him torture you? His brush of compassion for the pale-haired git made him blush, and he quickly sought to reverse the conversation. "So what does this have to do with me?"

"You?"

"Well, I assume you've come to me for a reason?"

"Yes, well I'd like to ask if Mr. Malfoy can stay here for the remainder of summer." Before Harry could interrupt with protests, he continued. "It's only a couple of weeks, after all, and this is a place we _know_ to be safe. It seems he too is wanted by the dark lord, and he can't very well go home."

Harry was shocked to see that he was actually entertaining the idea. He supposed it _would_ be fun having Malfoy owe him for the hospitality…and seeing him choke down Mrs. Weasley's food (which was without a doubt not of the caliber of dining the Malfoy prat was accustomed to). With a vindictive smile, he nodded his head in agreement.

"Good, then there's one other thing I must ask of you."

"What's that?"

"I need you to room with him."

"Remus, I'm letting him stay in the same bloody house as me, _my _house. I have to admit that when I agreed to this, I had imagined him staying on the fourth floor so he'd be as far away as possible."

"I understand, Harry, but no one else would be suited for the position. It's obvious we can't leave him alone; although I do believe he wishes to join our side, having no choice in the matter at this point, I also believe it would be foolish to let him reside here unattended. We can't have an auror positioned on him because they are needed elsewhere and would rarely be here to watch him. Neither Ron nor Hermione can watch him because I doubt they will carry the sympathy you now carry for the boy."

"Sympathy?" Harry scoffed.

"Yes, Harry, sympathy. I know you and he have a deeply rooted rivalry, but I also know you're a good person. A good person cannot look at someone tortured by the most evil wizard of our time _and_ his family, and then simply turn their back. I believe by telling you this, I have ensured that you will be understanding of the boy's position."

"What makes you think I'll be nice to him?"

"I didn't say be nice, Harry. I said be neutral; this is something I do not feel either Ron or Hermione could do. It will require a lot of self restraint on your part, but I am confident that you'll do ok."

Harry attempted an awkward smile, and Lupin returned it.

"Harry? Harry are you around here? Where are you?"

"Yeah, Hermione, I'm right over here!" he called.

"She can't hear you, remember." Lupin said, releasing the Muffilato spell with a flick of his wand before pocketing it.

"Yeah, Hermione, I'm right over here!" he repeated.

"Oh, there you are, and hello Remus."

"I was just going. Thanks for hearing me out, Harry." He nodded to the bushy-haired girl. "Hermione."

"What was that about?" she asked, when she was confident he was out of ear shot."

"I'll explain later. What is it that you wanted?"

"Oh, I was just coming to tell you that Mrs. Weasley called us for dinner."

"Didn't we already eat?"

"Yes, but Fred and George came for the Order meeting so they're here now; I suppose she wants us to help ease the blow. You know…about the house?"

"Right, ok then." It looked like Harry would be attending after all.

"I suppose you can tell us on the way down."

"Us?"

"Ron and I."

"Oh, right," he said, standing and wincing as a cramp ran up his leg. Hermione tapped it with her wand at the pain alleviated, making the walk down stairs to the kitchen much more bearable.


	3. You Can See It In The Eyes

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Ginny confessed the reasons she and Harry separated; Remus told Harry that Draco was beaten by the death eaters, his father and Voldemort included; Harry agreed to let Draco stay at Grimmauld Place for the remainder of the summer.

* * *

**Chapter Three: You Can See It In the Eyes**

Harry had not been looking forward to telling Ron and Hermione about their new "guest". In fact, he had successfully put it off all through dinner before the two of them cornered him outside his room, demanding answers. They took it as he might have expected; Ron angry, Hermione upset but somewhat understanding. He had imagined the next two weeks before they were off to Hogwarts would be full of Malfoy's usual witty retorts and snide comments, but actually he had yet to run into his old rival.

From what Lupin and Tonks told him at different points, he gathered that Malfoy was still under the intensive care of Madame Pompfrey and had yet to regain consciousness for more than an hour. He was, therefore, not forced to share a room with the prat for the first of the two weeks. At the beginning of the second, however, Snape came to him to tell him that "Draco has made a full recovery". He still wasn't sure if this was good news. He _was_ sure that this meant sharing a room, and that was bad news. When he went up the stairs to his room after having heard this, however, he saw that he was alone. Apparently, the prat had yet to be hoisted up the stairs.

It suited him just fine; he was hoping for silence, perhaps to find Malfoy sleeping, but this was even better. He knew that if he went to the archives for quiet, he would only find Hermione and an endless list of things he should be doing rather than just thinking. So his empty room, often times a symbol of his own personal isolation, now greeted him warmly and with open arms.

Walking over to the desk that sat beneath the tall arching windows, he sat and pulled out some worn pieces of parchment upon which he recognized his own untidy handwriting. He read it over.

_Horcruxes_

_First: Diary, Dumbledore destroyed it_

_Second: Marvolo's ring, Dumbledore destroyed it_

_Third: Salazar Slytherin's pendant? Fake found in cave, real one destroyed by R.A.B.?_

_Fourth: Voldemort's snake? _

_Fifth: Helga Hufflepuff's cup?_

_Sixth???????_

_Seventh: Voldemort_

He had looked over the list many times, hence the worn state of the parchment, but still he could not decide if the fourth or fifth horcruxes were accurate; or even what the sixth one _might_ be. He and Hermione had been searching the Black family archives for nearly two months, and Dumbledore had yet to send him any new information or even contact him at all the entire summer. He supposed that the headmaster had a lot to be getting on with. Earlier that summer, there had been talks about closing the school down because of the serious breach in security. By now, those talks had quieted, and he was fairly certain the headmaster had played a key role in that.

He sighed and put the parchment back; looking at it only frustrated him. Leaning back in his chair and running a hand through untidy black hair he sighed again, looking up and out the large windows at the sun starting to set in the distance. He stood and made towards the door, but stopped when he thought he saw the bed opposite his move. A quick glance over and he decided it had not.

Dinner would be ready by now, he was sure of it. He wasn't hungry, but he was eager for an opportunity to distract himself with other people. Besides, Ron would be coming home soon and he had said something about wanting to talk to Harry when he got home. Closing the door quietly behind him, he left and headed downstairs.

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When Draco woke, it was to an uncomfortable stiffness in his leg and a sharp pain that seemed to be stabbing into his brain via his ear. He clutched at both, which only brought more pain; a burning in his abdomen and needle-point pricks up his back from the stress he was putting on it. Frustrated, he just lied back down and let the original discomforts subside. Then it dawned on him: where was he?

He looked around, trying to keep as still as possible, at the dark furniture and curtains lining the tall windows. As he let his hand fall to the floor beside him, he realized that the floor was a cold hardwood; this was strange, because the Malfoy manor had all of it's floors bewitched to remain at a steady temperature. Now that he thought of it, he never recalled being in this room before…which wing was it in? He looked down at the blankets, dark and elegant, but not nearly as nice as the ones he had in his bed. He also noticed how little of a lump his body left in the fabric…was he losing weight? Fantastic, he thought, he already looked too thin. He laid his head back to the pillow, noticing a pattern on the roof he couldn't quite make out. It was faint silver and when he squinted to see it better he recognized it at once: it was the Black family crest.

But why would that be in the Malfoy manor? Then he realized that this must not _be_ the Malfoy manor. But who did he know in the Black family? Bellatrix? Was he with his aunt Bellatrix? The name sent shock waves of pain through his head as a rush of images shot back to him. Laughing black figures cackling with wands pointed at him as he writhed on the ground; a disgustingly distorted snake-faced man with red slits for eyes baring teeth in glee as the sight of it all; a snake rising above him and diving with its jaw open towards his collar. He pressed his eyes closed, wishing the images away.

They did leave him when a door opened; the sound of it echoing across the smooth floors and blank walls, causing him to close his eyes and sink underneath the blanket. Turning his head to the side so that he could just see a sliver of life beyond the comforter, he saw briefly the frame of a boy walking by. There was no mistaking it; the awkward strides of his walking, the way his arms hung loosely at his sides, the way he watched the floor as he walked; Harry bloody Potter had just walked into…wherever he was.

This was truly confusing. Why would Potter be welcome in a Black family home? True, he had befriended that blood-traitor Sirius, but that man was poor and without property. And besides all that, he was _dead_. He moved up slightly so that he could see Potter, sitting at a desk, looking at something and sighing; more than likely he was looking at a picture of that Weasley girl he was dating or maybe a piece of parchment from the Ministry asking him to attend a conference in which he would speak about how he was the key to saving the world from big bad Voldemort. It was sickening, the praise they gave him.

Looking at Potter seated at a desk facing tall windows forced an image to the front of Draco's mind; his mother, fatigued and frustrated, poring over family papers at her mahogany desk. Although Potter was slouched ungracefully where his mother had held her back straight like the elegant woman she was, the resemblance in the images was undeniable. A pang of longing swept over Draco and he was disgusted at how desperately he wished for his mother to be there. He was seventeen for god's sake.

He wondered what she was doing; did she know about what happened to him? Did she know where he was? Did she care? Draco was surprised at the last thought; Narcissa was very good at very few things, but mothering was certainly one of them. Or perhaps it just appeared so when she was juxtaposed with his callous father, but either way he adored her. _I hope she's doing well for herself…what if she and father got into an argument and he…_ He didn't want to finish the thought.

Potter stood from the desk. _Quick, _Draco thought, _if this is how he studies it's no wonder he gets poor marks._ It was an assumption, of course; Draco didn't know what kind of marks Potter got. He snickered at his own joke, something he rarely did, causing a brief convulsion to pass over him before he returned to his previous position. Fear swept over him as Potter stopped to look at him, but it quickly faded. In the instant that Potter looked to him, even met is eyes, the piercing emerald stare froze Draco's thoughts. It was the first time he'd seen those eyes looking at him with anything but contempt. Now they were full of curiosity and a profound exhaustion that pulled down faint bags underneath them. That stare was not the one Draco knew and detested, this one was almost…enticing.

When Draco snapped out of the trance, he realized that Potter had left; it was a good thing, because if he hadn't he would have seen Draco's shiver at the thought of an enticing Potter and known he was there. Draco pulled the covers down so that he could breathe properly, lungs stinging at the difference between the warm humidity under the blanket and the dry cold above it. He was just about to chance getting up when the door opened again.

Great, Potter came back. Knowing there was no way to conceal himself again, Draco just waited for the bespectacled brat to come and face him. He did not however; it was Severus.

"Severus…what are you doing here?" Now Draco was thoroughly confused. Not only was Potter walking comfortably through a house belonging to a dark pureblood family, but he was also living peacefully with Severus Snape. _This whole world's been turned upside down!_ He thought.

"I live here for the time being."

"Where are we?"

"Well, Draco, there are charms keeping me from telling you _everything_ there is to know about our current situation, but I can tell you that...," he paused, looking up and to the wall as if gathering his thoughts, "I can tell you that we are in the former residence of the Black Family."

"I gathered," said Draco, nodding feebly towards the ceiling.

Severus followed his stare to the ceiling where the Black crest repeated itself across the way. "Ah, I see. I don't have a lot of time Draco, so I'll just tell you the basics. You are in the house that is being used at the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. I assume you are going to join us after…what happened."

"Of course," Draco said, face not even hinting that he might be upset or embarrassed.

"Then you should know who stays here. There are lots of us coming in and out at all hours, but mostly the permanent residents are the Weasley family, Remus Lupin, Harry Potter, Nymphadora Tonks, and Mad Eye Moody."

"Why is Potter here?"

Severus smiled at the revulsion in Draco's voice; it faltered when he registered the tone though, it was a bit too strong. Almost as if Draco was trying to hide something. "Well, he should be here, it's his house."

"What?"

"Have him explain it to you if you feel so inclined."

"Talk to Potter? I don't think so."

"That's exactly why I came here to talk with you, Draco. You are on our side now, it would behoove you to make nice with the others."

"What, make friends with Potter, Weasel and Mudblood? Severus, that's asking too much."

"Think of this, Draco. Even though you and Harry have had a deep rivalry for six years, he still opened his home to you."

Draco was taken aback. "You call him Harry? And what's with defending him? Who's side are you on, Severus?"

"I am on Dumbledore's side. Right now, the only sides this world can be concerned with are Dumbledore and Voldemort. The rivalry between you and Harry Potter takes a back seat, Draco."

"But you hate him!"

Severus looked down so that the curtains of black hair swung over his forehead to frame his sunken cheekbones. "Some things have come to light and I…feel differently than I did before. I will not pretend that we are best friends, but…I do not _hate_ him."

Draco was shocked. Harry had a house, Snape was living in it, and they weren't snapping at each other like they used to. What next? Was someone going to tell him Potter and Severus were engaged?

There was a ringing from somewhere, the front lawns it sounded like, and Severus straightened. "I must go, the Order is starting a meeting. Please do remember what I said to you, Draco. When I say it would behoove you, I mean it. I ask that you do this not to make tensions lower around here, but for you own sake as well. You've been through quite an ordeal," he looked away as he said it, but Draco's stare became if anything more intense, "it would not due to overexert yourself thinking of witty retorts and ways to torture the people in this house."

Draco muttered a resentful, albeit genuine, noise of understanding.

"Good, Draco. I must go. Dinner is ready if you're hungry, are you able to walk yet?"

"I doubt it."

"Then I'll send one of the house elves up with dinner. I probably won't see you for a few days. Your letter from Hogwarts will be arriving tomorrow, school starts in a week."

"A week, how long have I been here?" Draco said, but Severus wasn't listening.

"Here, drink this, you'll feel better by tomorrow!" He tossed a small vial full of a swirling green and glossy white potion. The door closed, and Draco was alone again.

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After a brief dinner (it had been cut short by an impromptu Order meeting), Harry went upstairs to go to bed early. Hermione had headed off, taking her dinner with her, to the Library and Ron had headed off to the Ministry with his father for a few hours to finish something up. Finding that he was fine with the chance to rest uninterrupted, Harry opened his door and closed it behind him.

Not three steps into the room he caught sight of Malfoy, sleeping, on the bed opposite his. Harry stopped a moment to look at him. He seemed at first to be the same fair-skinned blonde-haired boy Harry had known for years, but at closer observation it became clear he was not. Faint circles surrounded his eyes, his cheeks looked bonier than usual, and even his hair had lost some of its sheen. His lips, normally powder pink, were graying and blending with surrounding white skin.

"Keep looking, Potter, and someone might think you're interested in me." Harry jumped and Malfoy opened his eyes. "That easy to scare you is it? I should tell the dark lord; no need luring you to some remote location, he need only pretend to be asleep." The tone was sarcastic, but not in a mean way. Harry was confused. It almost sounded…playful? That couldn't be right.

"It would have to be someone who didn't know either of us, Malfoy; anyone with sense would know I'd never be interested in a prat like you."

He smiled. "There's that famous wit I've heard so much about."

"Shove off," Harry said, but it lacked enthusiasm. Standing there staring at his six-year enemy and all he could think of was how sorry he felt for him.

"Don't look at me like that, Potter."

"We've already established that I'm not hitting on you."

"Don't look at me with sympathy. Do not pity me, Potter. I know that look because it's one that I give, not receive."

"I…fine." Harry moved to the corner where his bureau stood, pulling off his shirt and jeans and pulling up a pair of loose flannel pants, grey with red trims.

"Warn someone before you get naked, Potter, I was watching you."

"You're still watching me." Harry winked, joking. Malfoy didn't like it. A sick feeling of shame rose up in him, but he squashed it quickly.

"Aren't you afraid that I might attack you in your sleep, Potter?"

"No."

Draco was shocked. "No?"

"No. I saw you."

"Saw me when?"

"On top of the Astronomy Tower last June. I saw the look in your eyes when you had your wand pointed at Dumbledore. That wasn't hatred, Malfoy, it was fear."

"Don't you stand there and—"

"I'm not saying it to poke fun or be mean, Malfoy. I'm saying it because, for the first time, I realized that you weren't really as mean and evil as you want people to think you are."

"You got all that from one look, did you?"

"Yes. And it's been confirmed by now."

"How?" Draco hated being the one asking questions. Where was the Potter he could set off with a carefully placed insult? This Potter was calm and collected and Draco didn't like it one bit.

"You're here aren't you?" He pulled the blankets over his head and flicked his wand at the candles lighting the room from their place on the desk, extinguishing them. His back to Malfoy, he said "And besides, we took your wand."

Malfoy felt instinctively to his side and found that Harry was right. _Shit!_ Knowing that there was nothing he could do about it now, Malfoy resolved to just drink the Pepperup Potion than Severus had given him and let unconsciousness claim him once more.


	4. Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Draco had a clandestine glance at Harry before Snape explained where he was; Harry explained to Draco that he saw him on the Astronomy tower the previous June.

* * *

A/N: I realized that up until now I've been spelling Lucius' name "Luscious", I don't know why. Perhaps it was my subconscious way of confessing that I want to ravish the man in bed, whatever. Either way, I fixed it. Oh, and this chapter may seem to put Harry a little ooc, but trust me he's not, I have my reasons.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous **

"Bout time you got up, mate," Ron told Harry as he stumbled into the kitchen to find Hermione, Ginny and Ron seated around the table, plates from breakfast already empty and in the sink.

"What time is it?" he asked wearily, rubbing his eyes as they struggled to adjust to the bright room.

"Nearly ten," Ginny said, "did Malfoy keep you up with all of his incessant whining?"

"No actually, he…he was sleeping when I went in."

"Good," said Ron, buttering more toast even as Hermione tried to move food away from him, "As long as he doesn't leave ferret droppings in the sheets, we should be ok."

"Ron, for god's sake, stop _eating_!" Hermione exclaimed, taking yet another piece of toast from Ron's hand as he made to take a bite.

"Oh, come off it, I've only had like three…"

"_Thirty_ three, more like."

"Whatever. Hey, Harry, your letter came from Hogwarts." He nodded to an envelope sitting at the end of the table, and Harry grabbed it as he sat.

When he was done skimming the letter, he said, "Usual stuff, then."

"Nothing exciting," said Ginny.

"Well, Ron, come on; I need to talk with you before we go."

"We're going today?"

"We only have a few days left before we need to go to school, Harry."

"Oh," he said, as Hermione dragged Ron out of the door.

"Harry, listen," he looked up to Ginny who was sitting in the seat across from his, looking concerned. "I'm…sorry about what I said in front of the others. You know…about us."

"Its fine, Ginny, I—"

"No, its not. I shouldn't have had that talk in front of those two, and I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"Well actually…I did have a favor to ask of you."

"Anything."

"Well, I've been thinking about what Scrimgeour said; you know, about being a mascot for our cause and all."

"You're not seriously considering joining up with the Ministry, are you? Because Harry, let me tell you, they won't hesitate to—"

"No, not that. It just got me thinking; I mean, whether I like it or not, I really don't have a choice in the matter do I? I _am_ a mascot for our side, a lot of people…look up to me." He looked as if embarrassment might kill him, but he continued. "And it must be hard to find confidence in well…me."

Ginny looked confused. "Harry, you've handled more in your life than most anyone has, and you're just barely of age. What's disappointing in that?"

"When people look at me, they don't think 'Hey, Harry Potter, the one who escaped the graveyard ceremony'; they think 'Hey, there's Harry Potter…why is he wearing clothes that are four times larger than he is'?". He tugged at the shirt he'd thrown on before coming downstairs; another hand-me-down of Dudley's.

"So this is about clothes?"

"Sort of. It's about the message I'm sending to the wizarding world. If I'm going to be killing the most hated wizard of all time, I might as well look the part, right?"

"I suppose…"

"You don't think so?"

"No, I just don't think this is much like you." Harry turned away and muttered something under his breath. "What was that?"

"I said Remus mentioned it to me…it was kind of embarrassing. It gets old, you know, always walking around in someone else's clothing."

"Too true," she said, looking down to her own hand-me-down shirt and jeans.

"So here's the deal; you help me find some nice stuff and I'll buy you some new clothes." She looked as if she were about to refuse the offer, so Harry cut in, saying "Please, Ginny, let me do this. I need to do this."

She decided not to push the subject. "Fine. But why me?"

"Because I'm no good at knowing what looks good and what doesn't and you are. And besides, I needed an excuse to buy you clothing."

"Why do you need to buy me clothing?"

"Not clothing necessarily, but I wanted to buy you _something_."

"But why though?"

"Because I…feel bad about the way our relationship went. I guess this is sort of my apology." He almost looked shocked, as if he couldn't believe he'd just said that, and he got up to leave before she could say another word.

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"Ginny, I really don't think this is a good idea."

"What are you talking about? You look fantastic, Harry!"

Harry looked over his reflection once more in the vertical mirror, face pinched slightly as if he had just whiffed something unpleasant. Ginny had picked out a pair of pants that, though they looked like denim, were actually another fabric Harry didn't recognize; thinner and softer than muggle jeans would be. They gripped him tightly at first, but hung looser by the time they reached his knees. The shirt was what was really bothering him. It was a light, breezy material, green (for his eyes, Ginny had said), long-sleeve with a string to tie the cuffs tightly to his wrists. The same string was tied loosely just below his neck so that a hint of his chest could be glimpsed by the other star-struck shoppers.

"I don't know, Ginny; this looks like a _girl_ shirt!"

"No girl would ever wear that! Unless perhaps that girl happened to be Millicent Bulstrode." She giggled at his look of horror, "I'm _kidding_. Look, you asked for my advice and here it is. Those pants accentuate your leg muscles and the shirt will tease anyone who looks at you."

"I don't want to tease them! I want them to ignore me," he said through gritted teeth, looking over at another teenage witch shopping a few isles away who was looking in Harry's direction literally every opportunity she had, be he staring at her or not.

"So that's why you asked me to come help you pick out nice new clothes? Because you don't want people looking at them?"

"Point taken. How did you get so good at all this, anyway?"

"Well, Harry, when you're forced to grow up in boys' hand-me-downs, you learn how to make things work."

"I don't think you'll need any more of George's old jeans," he nodded in the direction of the witch who was holding their selections. In her arms, she had over ten new shirts, a few skirts and a few pairs of pants, some jackets, some dress robes, some school robes, and behind her on one of the service counters was a pile easily three times the size of the one she held in her arms. And sitting next to the large multicolored fabric pile, threatening to collapse at a moment's notice, was a case that Harry knew contained an elegant silver-chain necklace he had picked out for Ginny.

"About that, you know that you aren't allowed to get me any Christmas or birthday gifts for twelve years, right?"

Harry laughed. "Alright, let's go pay for all this."

As the woman (accompanied by three other store employees) bagged their purchases, Ginny pointed to a bag full of clothes she didn't recognize. "I don't remember picking those out."

"No, I picked them out while you were trying things on."

"And you didn't let me see! God, they could be awful!"

"Nice to see that you have so much confidence in my ability to dress myself; I'm not _completely_ hopeless."

"Harry, you wanted a shirt with _feathers_ on it."

"You didn't think that would have gone well with—never mind. Those clothes aren't for me; they're for…our newest guest." He didn't think it wise to mention Malfoy's name; he was still wanted by the ministry, as far as Harry knew.

"You bought him clothes? Why? He's rich; he can buy his own damn clothes."

"It's not as if I wanted to! Lupin asked me to as sort of a…favor."

"Sort of a favor?" Ginny arched an eyebrow to complete an expression worthy of her mother.

"Well, I'm doing this and he's doing something for me."

"And what's that?"

"Come on, Ginny; it's rude to talk business when you're out with a lady." He gave her a wink as the woman behind the counter cleared her throat. Harry turned and took the small square cube she handed him; it was surprisingly light and was just small enough to close his fist over.

"Mr. Potter, will this be your first time using a compartment cube?"

"Er…if you mean this," he raised his clenched fist, "then yeah, it is."

"Not to worry, then. When you're ready to claim your belongings, simply set it on the ground and touch it with your wand. It will only work if you touch it, because you're the one who made the purchase. Also, you should make sure there is plenty of room around the cube before activating it. Normally this isn't a concern but given the size of your order," she chanced a glance at one of the other employees who was nursing a cramped hand, "it would be advisable."

"Thanks, I think I can get it from there then. You've been wonderful." He handed her a few galleons before he and Ginny left the shop. "What happens if someone else tries to activate it?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Don't know, but it can't be good. Where did you say we were meeting Ron and Hermione, again?"

"Gringotts."

"Right, let's go then."

They found the couple waiting nearby, window shopping at a Quiditch store just one building down from the white-marble bank.

"Hey! You guys! Come on!" he called.

"About time you guys got here, I was starting to—Harry, what are you wearing?" Hermione stopped and looked at Harry's new clothes, her expression unreadable.

"My god, is that a woman's shirt!"

Ginny hit him. "Ron! It is _not_ a woman's shirt!"

"He looks ridiculous!"

"I was going to say he looked rather…dashing," Hermione said, words finally coming to her.

Harry mumbled his thanks to Hermione before they all moved inside; he was thankful that the dim candle lighting concealed his flushed cheeks. As they approached one of the many goblin tellers, Ron asked, "Is this place seriously run by Goblins?"

"What, gonna pull an Umbridge and say they aren't fit for normal society because they're not human?" Hermione said, firing up immediately. Harry had thought they were having an argument when he and Ginny had found them, and now he was sure of it.

"No, just surprised," Ron muttered.

"Have you ever been here, Ron?" Harry asked.

"No, actually. Our family has an account, of course, but mum always gets the money before we do our shopping so we've never had to. It's actually kind of nice."

"Of course it's nice, Ron; it's full of money."

"Ah, Mr. Potter, it's nice to see you again."

"Hello, er…"

"Turuk, sir, my name's Turuk."

"Hello Turuk."

"Mr. Potter, I'll be your personal teller from now on whenever you visit our bank."

"Oh, ok. Um…why do I have a personal teller now?"

"Well after the recent addition to your account, you've been upgraded to a class A vault; a personal teller is standard."

"Recent edition?"

"Probably not wise to speak of financial dealings in public, Mr. Potter; why don't I show you to your new vault and we can go over everything there." Turuk lead a confused looking Harry and his friends to a large door, which he opened to a circular room. "I assume these people are welcome in your vault, Mr. Potter?"

"Yeah, they are."

"Right then, what are their names?"

"Er, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and Hermione Granger."

Turuk said nothing, but instead walked over to the only portion of the wall not covered in fine polished marble or some intricate and rare ivy that wound it's way around the room. Harry even thought he heard water flowing somewhere, though as he looked around he could see none. On the patch of brick he'd approached, Turuk made a few detailed scrapes with his nail that shone briefly before quickly fading.

"Right then, if you'll all come over here." He motioned them to the center of the room where a rune made of golden marble was shaped into the floor to contrast the white. "From here, you just speak the name of the vault you wish to visit. _Harry Potter_." Turuk vanished instantly.

"Ok, then, um…" Harry walked onto the rune. "_Harry Potter_." He felt a familiar tug from somewhere behind his naval; before he knew it, he was standing in a room not unlike the one he had just left. Behind him, the other three popped into view and took in their luxurious surroundings. They were in a square room crafted of the same white marble that seemed popular with the goblins; to the walls clung several portraits Harry had never seen before and around their frames wove a considerable amount of the ivy he'd seen on the floor below.

"Now, let's see about your finance report, shall we?" Turuk made a haughty hand gesture and a piece of parchment materialized in his hand. It was so long, that it rolled to the floor, making a paper trail towards the waiting foursome. "Ah, yes. It seems that the interest in the vault was kept in a trust to be released to you upon your seventeenth birthday, per your parents' instruction. And it also seems that one Sirius Black left you a considerable amount of gold. In fact…yes, it seems the addition of you inheritance of the Black Fortune has nearly tripled your net worth, Mr. Potter."

Harry could think of nothing to say to this, so he said nothing. After a few moments hesitation, Turuk politely excused himself, disappearing as he bowed to the four teenagers, all of whom appeared shocked.

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Draco moved to sit at the desk he'd seen Potter sitting at the previous evening. He was moving, which was good, but his limbs were unbearably stiff, which was not. The Pepperup Potion Severus had made for him was working brilliantly, but even the best of potions took time. At least he'd be able to get his own dinner now; one more look at that disgusting house elf, _Kracker _or _Beecher_ or something, and he would lose his appetite all together.

He had wanted to go to Diagon Ally today as well; though not with the famous golden threesome, of course. Severus had put his foot down, saying that Draco wasn't well enough and that he was still technically a wanted fugitive. He sighed as the memory came to him. His hearing with the ministry was set for two days before the Hogwarts Express would arrive at King's Cross Station. The pressure was really on; if he got convicted, there wouldn't be time to appeal before classes started. He had a sickening feeling that the Ministry had planned this.

And then there was Potter and his insufferable kindness. Potter…those damn green eyes. Ever since they had made secret eye contact, Draco had been constantly mulling over the possibilities for why he had felt the way he'd felt. He'd known for some time that he didn't fancy girls; it probably hit him when he and Pansy were "being intimate" as she put it. They had been snogging in a corridor (Draco hoping to be seen so someone would spread the word) when he had reached under her skirt and…he didn't want to think about it. But still, Harry bloody Potter? There was no way he could have a crush on the prat.

He was annoying, Gryffindor, foolhardy, Gryffindor, clumsy, and most dreadfully of all…he was from _Gryffindor_! Although the way he sort of bumbled around the castle, saying what came to mind without thinking of consequences was a little…adorable? Draco shook himself mentally. Adorable? Yes, adorably asinine! He couldn't believe that he was even entertaining the idea that he might have a "thing" for boy wonder.

The door to his shared bedroom opened and he turned to see Potter entering, the youngest weasel in tow. "Oh, good Malfoy, you're up." Potter said, pulling something out of his pocket. The girl…Jenny, maybe?...said nothing.

"Hoping for a glance at my pretty face, are we Potter?" He didn't take the bait. Damn! What was with this new Potter? He used to be so easy to set off…was Draco losing his touch? As this horrifying though occurred to him, he glanced out the window. He turned around, however, when he heard a loud pop and he saw that the relatively empty bedroom was now full of large shopping bags. Draco's mouth dropped in spite of himself.

"You think we over did it, Gin?"

"You can never over do shopping, Harry."

Together they started looking through the bags one-by-one, occasionally picking one up and setting it by the door.

As Harry helped Ginny find which bags were hers, he noted silently that Malfoy was watching his every move. He also noted that he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about this. He knew Malfoy couldn't attack him, he had no wand, but it was still a bit unnerving. But that was mixed with a sense of…flattery? He supposed that on some deep, _very_ deep level, he was a little flattered that Malfoy was staring at him. He must be jealous…excellent. Harry had to admit that once he got over the shock of not wearing muggle jeans and over-sized t-shirts that often times draped down to his knees, he actually liked the clothes Ginny had picked out for him. He knew there was more to his pleasure than inciting _envy_ in Malfoy, but he wasn't quite ready to approach that yet.

When they had found all her bags, Harry straightened and said, "Well, if we've overlooked any, I'll have Kreacher come deliver them for you."

"Ok, and thanks again, Harry."

"Please, you really earned it; I would have never been able to do it without you. _Wingardium Leviosa!_" The bags around Ginny's feet jumped into the air; they smiled at each other before she left for her own room, bags hovering in a train behind her.

Harry turned to look at Malfoy who, he noticed, at closed his mouth. "These are for you." He flicked his wand at a few of the bags and the slid on the floor to Malfoy's bare feet.

"You bought me clothes, Potter?"

Harry was about to correct him, but instead he said "Yes, I've grown tired of seeing you in Ron's clothes." He was confused as to why he hadn't bothered to correct Malfoy, did he _want_ him to think he'd bought them without request? Perhaps it would come in handy if Malfoy owed him. He forgot about his confusion, however, when a flush reached the pale boy's cheeks and Harry granted himself a point mentally.

"Right well, it's not as if I wanted to." Harry could tell that the blonde boy was trying to muster the same drawl he spoke with at school, but he had failed and it just came out making him sound a little pathetic and downtrodden.

The effect was unnerving, so Harry moved to the door to go down for dinner. He flicked his wand over his shoulder and heard the telltale sound of rustling bags that told him they were now arranging themselves on his bed.

"Potter!" Harry stopped, perhaps struck by the force of the word; he didn't turn around.

"Thank you."

Harry left without saying anything.


	5. Courtroom Ten

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Harry and Ginny got new wardrobes; Harry found out he was made one of the richest wizards in Britain; Harry bought Draco clothes and Draco, of all things, thanked him.

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A/N: The scene in the courtroom is VERY similar in parts to Harry's hearing in fifth year. This isn't because I'm too damn lazy to write my own court scene, I just figured something like this would be very official and standardized so it really wouldn't change much. Thanks for all the comments, guys!

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**Chapter Five: Courtroom Ten**

As Potter left, closing the door too hard in his ungraceful forceful way, Draco allowed his jaw to drop again. Not only had Potter bought him something,_ a lot_ of somethings, but he had thanked him for it. What was this world coming to? He supposed he must be getting overly emotional because of the approaching court date. He made a mental note to check his feelings more often; it wouldn't do to have a Malfoy wandering around the house thanking people and being courteous to inferiors.

He sighed and stood; his legs were still a little stiff, but the slight burn in his torso had faded and he could move around fairly easily by now. The light from the window was fading; he reached for his wand to light a few candles, and when he remembered it wasn't there he grumbled and retrieved the book of matches Severus had left for him. What had gone wrong? Six months ago, he was one of the richest heirs in wizarding society; now he was using muggle matches in a house hidden from the world so he wouldn't be arrested before his court date. He kicked the desk chair at the thought; it skidded to the corner and incited a loud yelp form something Draco wouldn't see.

He jumped, again cursing the fact that he was without a wand and therefore without proper defense. His fear faded and gave way to repulsion when the most disgusting looking house elf he'd ever seen emerged from the shaded corner. "Oh, it's just you. What the hell do you want, and why are you sneaking in corners without making yourself known? I don't know how that Black woman put up with you."

"Kreacher has something for Master Malfoy," the thing said, ignoring the jab. "Kreacher knows master is from a good pureblood family, so Kreacher thinks that master will be best suited to keep this. It's a priceless family heirloom, master."

The thing hobbled towards him, dangling a silver chain from it's outstretched hand. Draco took it, trying as hard as he could to avoid the things dirt-smudged skin. It was a locket; surprisingly heavy, so it must have been real silver. Draco didn't think anything of the snake on the front; what _didn't_ have a snake on it in this damn house? He himself was a fan of the Slytherin symbolism, but the Black family had really gone over the edge with it. "Yeah, whatever. Now get out of here."

The thing didn't say anything, just disappeared with a faint cracking sound and Draco was alone once more. He looked at the locket now resting on his palm. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he was no longer standing in the cold bedroom; he was transported by some trick of time to his mother's bedroom as she took the elegant pendant from his hand. The disgusting one he'd been given by the house elf had been replaced with his mother's favorite; a gift from his father.

"_Thank you, dear."_ She put it on. _"There, now doesn't this look lovely!"_

As quickly as he had left, Draco was back in the cold bedroom. His mother was gone, and the warm light that had surrounded him had been engulfed by the dingy gloom of his dimly lit bedroom. The pendant dropped from his hand, and the resounding pounding noise shook him on some level he couldn't identify. He clenched his fists at his side; he would _not_ cry.

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"Mum, did Harry tell you about what we saw today?"

"No, he didn't. But if it's something from Fred and George's shop, I'm fairly sure I don't want to know what it is."

"No, he's rich!"

"Dear, I know he has a lot of money, but _rich_ is a bit of an exaggeration, don't you think?"

"It's true, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said as she buttered one of the warm biscuits Molly had made to accompany their roast dinner. She explained briefly about how Harry had acquired his newfound wealth and Mrs. Weasley looked shocked.

"My dear, that's wonderful! You'll never have to work a day in your life!" She said it as if it was something good, but the words made Harry's insides squirm with guilt.

"I suppose, but I think I'll still want to. I'd get bored sitting in my mansion and watching my hundreds of house elves count my money." They all laughed.

"So did you happen to see Fred and George?" Molly asked, taking a bite of an onion that had been baked into the roast. It was just the four of them for dinner; no members of the order were home, Malfoy had been having his food delivered to him, and Ginny had gone to visit Dean for a few days before term started. Apparently the two of them had decided to work things out or something; Harry hadn't been really listening when Ginny was talking about it. Even though she and Harry weren't dating anymore, he still felt a flare of envy whenever she talked about other boyfriends; perhaps it was a big-brotherly instinct?

"Oh, ee idnt," Ron said thickly through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"I believe he meant 'No, we didn't', Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, casting a reproachful stare in Ron's direction. Harry had to stifle a laugh; no matter what happened in the world, some things would always stay the same, one of them was that Hermione would be forever correcting Ron's manners.

"Oh. I do hope they're alright. You know, they were telling me that—" Harry wasn't listening. He was still wondering why in the world he hadn't bothered to tell Malfoy that buying him clothes was as a favor for Lupin. He'd been about to; he was going to correct him when he caught those steely grey eyes with his own. Something in them made him stop. They were dark, and patches of lighter grey made them look like storm clouds, as if inside Malfoy's mind was a constant turmoil of thoughts and ideas. Maybe a better gift would have been a pensive.

They finished dinner and thanked Mrs. Weasley, who had already started cleaning up the dishes when they were headed out. "Oh, Mrs. Weasley, why don't you sit down?" Harry said. "Kreacher!" There was a faint pop as the elderly house elf apparated into view. "Do the dishes." Kreacher grumbled but complied nonetheless; it wasn't as if he had a choice.

"Oh, thank you dear," Molly said, and he nodded his head and followed the other two out of the kitchen/dining room area. As they walked across the entry way, someone opened the door and Harry saw Mr. Weasley step through.

"Oh, Harry! So glad I caught you, I needed to give you this." He withdrew an envelope from the inner folds of his shabby robe and handed it to Harry. "The ministry was going to send it, but they'd have a hard time of that with a fidelus charmed house, wouldn't they?"

Harry took the letter addressed to _Mr. Harry Potter, Unknown Location, London_ and thanked Mr. Weasley before setting up the stairs. Ron and Hermione had already gone up and they were probably not studying. Harry smiled, taking the steps two at a time; he knew that the two loved as much as they fought. He was fairly certain that Hermione was still a virgin, but you never knew these days. If Malfoy was sleeping in the same room as him, anything could happen, couldn't it?

He opened his door without knocking and saw Malfoy standing, silhouetted by the faint candle light. "Your house elf came to give me this, Potter. Some priceless heirloom or something, but I don't want it." He pointed to his feet where something was shimmering a little.

Harry strode over and knelt down to pick it up, noticing with a smile that Malfoy stiffened as his arm brushed the blonde's leg. His smile turned frown when he asked himself _why_ he'd done that, but he ignored it. It didn't feel right, but it wasn't wrong either.

"Oh my god!" Harry exclaimed as he got a good look at it. "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"Obviously not, if I'd have known of its apparent value I wouldn't have handed it over," Malfoy said as he strode to his bed, creating a comfortable distance between them.

"Oh…no, I guess you wouldn't know. Your father might, but I doubt you would."

"What are you getting at, Potter?" he spat.

"Er…nothing, Malfoy. He pocketed the pendant, making a mental note to write Dumbledore later. He walked to his own bed and sat as he tore at the envelope Mr. Weasley had given him. Inside, on a thin cream-colored parchment, was the following:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Your presence has been requested in court hearing 18K90R, Draconis Malfoy versus the Hogwarts Board of Governors. The hearing has been set for the thirtieth of August at ten o'clock in the morning in courtroom ten at the Ministry of Magic Headquarters, London. You have been randomly selected among the students at your school to serve as a peer juror in the decision of indictment for Mr. Draconis Malfoy. Among you will be the high court of the Wizengamut and the high board of Ministry Officials. If for any reason your presence will be a difficulty, please contact me immediately with your concerns._

_Yours in Trust,_

_Loretta Worshaw_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Harry stared at the letter for a few moments, shocked by what he'd read, when Malfoy said, "What? Did they decide to name you Wizard of the Year, Potter?"

"Nope, better" Harry said, crumpling up the parchment and tossing it to a refuse bin. "I'm going to be a juror at your trial."

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Draco woke the morning of August the thirtieth with a sick feeling in his stomach; he barely made it to the restroom before he vomited up all the delicious food Mrs. Weasley had made for him the previous night. As he looked upon his reflection in the mirror, he said his name. Just once, and then several times, and then over and over until the sound of it and the sight of himself speaking the name no longer seemed real.

He dressed in some of the clothes that Potter had bought for him and he had to admit, the golden boy had a damn good sense of style. Though you would never be able to know it the way he walked around in oversized muggle clothing. Though lately Draco had noticed that Potter was keeping up with appearance much better than he used to; he was wearing nice clothes, _wizard_ clothes, and he was wearing his hair longer in the front so that untidy black bangs hung over a new pair of square-rimmed glasses. Draco supposed it was because he wanted to hide that ugly scar; he didn't blame him.

Someone knocked at the bathroom door, so Draco opened it. He was wearing his cloth pants with a pair of knee-high black tie-up boots; the red long-sleeve suede shirt was still waiting for him, set folded on the counter. "Yes, what is it? Oh, Potter; what do you want?"

Was he blushing? "Oh, Malfoy I…I didn't know you were in here, sorry." He turned to go but stopped and turned around. His wand was out before Malfoy could think of what to do and he whispered something beneath his breath.

"Potter! If I have boils, I'm going to live up to my reputation and murder you!" He rushed to the mirror to investigate, but when he saw his own reflection his face looked normal. Normal, because the bruises left from…what had happened were now gone and his pale skin was unblemished. He was touched by the gesture, but instead he said, "Great job, Potter. You're going to make an excellent mediwitch someday." But when he turned around to gauge his reaction, the black-haired boy had departed.

When he was properly dressed and ready for his ministry debut, he walked down the stairs to find Potter waiting for him holding some black fabric in his arms. "I thought you might need this," he said, unfolding the fabric in his arms to reveal an elegant set of black robes, fine quality from the look of them, with faint emerald trims around the ends and cuffs.

"What's all this for, Potter? Trying to get me to put out?" Draco smiled inwardly as a horrible blush flushed the boy's cheeks.

"Just thought you ought to look nice, make a good impression. Just put them on and wait here, I'm going to be escorting you to the Ministry along with a few aurors. I just have to talk briefly with Dumbledore and I'll be out and ready to go."

All pretenses of being snide and sarcastic forgotten, Draco asked, "Dumbledore is here?"

"Yes," said Harry. "He is." And he turned and left. What? No comment about making sure Draco stays away so he won't murder him? New clothes…new wit…and now some tact? Draco shook his head; this was all too much.

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"Harry, sit down." Harry complied and looked across the table though half-moon spectacles at a pair of piercing blue eyes. They were twinkling and curious as ever, but an acute exhaustion settled around them and it made Harry uneasy. Dumbledore seemed to be aging three years for Harry's one.

"Yes, Professor, is it about the horcrux?"

"No, Harry, it isn't. Although I do thank you for letter, and I have retrieved the locket from Professor Lupin; it seems that our trip to the cave at the end of last year was not in vain. Curious that all this time Regalus Black would have been in possession of a horcrux. But as I said, I am not here to discuss such things. I wanted to speak with you about the hearing, Harry. Are you familiar with the proceedings?"

"Fairly, I attended one myself, remember?"

"I do, but I wonder if you know that you, as the peer juror, will be the deciding factor if the vote comes to a tie. First the Wizengamut will vote, and if they vote for indictment the vote will pass to the high council of Ministry officials. The Minister, the head of Magical Law Enforcement, Undersecretary to the Minister, what have you."

"Umbridge will be there?"

"I regret that Dolores will be attending, but this isn't necessarily a bad thing, Harry; she and Lucius Malfoy were very…close. She will most likely vote in Draco's favor."

"You want him to get off?"

"I do, Harry. I explained this to you at the end of last year. I do not believe that Draco is a bad person. He did what he did because he believed he had to and he was worried for the safety of himself and his mother and father. The lives of our loved ones are an excellent motivator, Harry. You yourself discovered this when you fought to retrieve Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets."

"But he tried to kill you!"

"I have not forgotten."

"So you're here to tell me to vote in his favor then? Should the high council come to a tie?"

"No, I am not. I have come to tell you to make your own decision. The ministry, contrary to what they told you in that letter, picked you because of your long-standing rivalry with Mr. Malfoy. They believe that if they do tie, than you will vote with them to see Draco convicted. I want you to vote, Harry, as if you were an impartial peer juror, as the person in your place should be. Vote based on the evidence presented and your own personal experiences with the matter, not what I or the Ministry wishes of you. Make this decision for yourself."

Harry was taken aback by the words. "Er…ok, sir. I will."

"Thank you, Harry. Right then, you had better be off. It wouldn't do to have Mr. Malfoy late for his hearing. I believe Nymphadora, Remus, and Mad Eye are waiting with him in the entry way."

"Just one more thing, professor. Why didn't I have a peer juror at my trial last August?"

"Because last August the accused in a trial wasn't allowed a peer juror. There have been some changes in the Ministry since Scrimgeour took office; this one, I believe, is for the better. But you really should be going, Harry."

"Ok, Professor. I'll er…see you in a few days then. Will we be continuing our meetings?"

"Of course. Now that the stakes have been set, Harry, they are of the utmost importance."

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Draco followed the pink-haired woman down a complicated network of halls that were leading them deeper into the Ministry than he had ever been. Potter had left them a while back, apparently to speak with the Minister or something before the trial started.

"Right then, here we are," the woman finally said, pausing before a large oak door with "10" above it in gold-plated lettering. She opened the door for him and he suppressed a gasp of horror at what he saw. Entering the room, he discovered that he was on a floor ten feet below a circular wall. He could see the tops of chairs over the dark concrete and even a bit of polished wood he assumed was a desk for his jurors. In the middle of the room was a single wooden chair he assumed to be his place. As he approached it, he noticed that there were straps around the arms and legs. He sat apprehensively; the straps stirred but did not bind him, so he let out a sigh of relief.

No sooner had he sat than a door high above his left opened and ten wizards with purple robes embroidered with silver W's and hats strode in; the Wizengamut. The moment they were all seated a second door opened opposite the first on the other end of the semi-circular walkway, and a vaguely familiar red-head stepped through, reading off a parchment through dreadful horn-rimmed glasses. "To serve as interrogators over the proceedings of trial 18K90R, Draconis Malfoy versus the Hogwarts Board of Governors, I present the following: Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour; Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister, Dolores Umbridge; Senior Political Adviser to the Minister, Cornelius Fudge; Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Loretta Worshaw; Head of the Department For Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, Arthur Weasley; and Head of the Department of Education, Henrietta Bode."

Draco watched each person enter as their name was called, taking their seats and looking down at him, wondering vaguely why a misuse of muggle artifacts officer was needed. Although, he did suppose that using wardrobes to enter the castle would fall under that category.

"And finally, serving as a randomly selected peer juror, Mr. Harry Potter."

Draco rolled his eyes as the Wizengamut and the officials whispered excitedly as Potter entered the room, taking his seat at the end of the line of chairs, as if he was some damn celebrity. For god's sake, his parents were blown up! Who gives a damn? Draco winced at the harshness of his own deduction. As the pompous red-head took his seat and closed the door behind him, the darkness in the courtroom seemed all the more complete.

There was a pause before the minister spoke. "Disciplinary hearing of the thirtieth of August into offenses committed under the Statute for the Protection of Greater Wizarding Society and the Decree for the Safety of Student Witches and Wizards Attending a Magical University by Draconis Lucius Malfoy, resident last at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England. Interrogators Rufus Artemus Scrimgeour, Dolores Jane Umbridge, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, Loretta Lynn Worshaw, Arthur Jacob Weasley, and Henrietta Elizabeth Bode. Scribing the proceedings: Percy Ignatius Weasley.

"Are you Draconis Lucius Malfoy of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England?"

"Yes."

"The charges against the accused are as follows: deliberate violation of Section 4, paragraph A of the Statute for the Protection of Greater Wizarding Society, operating in the company of Death Eaters; Section 4 paragraph E of the same statute, receiving the dark mark; section 1, paragraph A still of the same statute, conspiracy to commit murder; and section 1, paragraph B of the Decree for the Safety of Student Witches and Wizards Attending a Magical University, endangering the lives of practicing students. Tell us, what is your excuse for committing these most heinous of crimes?"

"I have no excuse, Minister; only an explanation. At the time I was enlisted into the dark lord's service, I had no say in the matter. It was my father who forced me to get the dark mark branded on my forearm."

"So you blame your father then?" said one of the Wizengamut.

"No. I have said that I will offer no excuses; this means that I will also not be blaming anyone. I know that I was the only one responsible for my actions, but I am explaining my reasoning in hopes of illustrating some understanding of the position I was put in. I did not have a choice in getting the dark mark, my father, Lucius Malfoy, slipped me a potion and rendered me unconscious. It was on my arm when I woke up.

"My instructions from the dark lord were to find a way for death eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts to aid me in my eventual task, the murder of Albus Dumbledore." There were several angry noises at this proclamation. "I did not complete the task because I wanted to aid the dark lord; I did it because he had threatened too…" his voice faltered so he made an effort to keep it strong. "Because he was threatening to kill my parents.

"Even after all that my father has done to me, I wanted to keep him alive; he is my father, after all. And my mother meant…means more to me than anyone. My heart wasn't in the tasks I completed, as I believe is illustrated in my failure to murder Professor Dumbledore."

He stopped and let the wizards finish scribbling some notes on parchment before the minister cleared his throat. "Now that we have heard your plea, do you offer any witnesses to bear your account?"

"I do not—" But he stopped when he heard the door opening behind him. He started to turn to see who had entered, but the straps on the chair shivered threateningly so he remained seated. He assumed it must have been someone important, as all the witches and wizards above him gasped collectively.

"—Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Very well, Dumbledore," Scrimgeour said, looking obviously disgruntled, "this court shall hear your testimony. You may proceed."

Draco sat in stunned silence. Why would Dumbledore arrive at his defense? Shouldn't he be rallying for his conviction? The old man's testimony was short, and Draco was only half listening. Occasionally he'd catch phrases like "lack of will to commit…" and "true to his word on the matter of the death threats against…" By the time Draco recovered from his shock, Dumbledore had finished and drawn himself a chair, literally, to sit level with him.

"Very well. Draconis Malfoy, do you offer a second witness?"

"No."

"Are there any questions from the high council?"

Loretta Worshaw leaned forward in her seat. "Yes, I've a question for the accused. Speaking: Loretta Worshaw, Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement."

"Proceed."

"What proof do you offer to support your claim that you did these actions for the protection of your family?"

"When dealing with the dark lord there is very little proof to be had, as I'm sure this court is aware, having tried several death eaters before me. I can offer nothing but my words and the basic knowledge that almost any child would do anything to protect their mother."

"Any more questions?" When no one spoke, the Minister cleared his throat. "Alright then, we move to a vote. To the Wizengamut; please make a decision based on the evidence before you on the guilt of Draconis Lucius Malfoy." The entire room waited as the witches and wizards in plumb colored robes made their decisions, touching something on their bench that was hidden from Draco's view. He held his breath as torches beneath each member of the group burst into flame. Out of the thirteen members present, not a single one of them believed him innocent.

The minister looked smug. "As the Wizengamut has affirmed the guilt of the accused, we move to a vote of the high council. Council members, please make your decisions." There was a second moment of tension as Draco waited, until three torches burst into flame. He noticed that those under Dolores Umbridge, Arthur Weasley, and Henrietta Bode remained unlit. He would have been encouraged, but this tie meant that the decision was going to Potter; he was done for.

The minister seemed to be thinking along the same lines. He smiled as he looked to Harry. "In the event of a tie among the council, the vote is passed to the randomly selected peer juror, in this case, Mr. Harry James Potter. Mr. Potter, do you confirm or deny the guilt of Mr. Draconis Lucius Malfoy?" By the end of his speech, Scrimgeour seemed so happy that he might burst into laughter on the spot.

"Speaking: Harry James Potter, peer juror," Potter said, following in the example of the witch who had spoken before him. "Based on the evidence presented at this hearing, I've decided that the accused stands…" He paused, and Draco saw a look of deep contemplation on his face. Go on, Potter, get it over with. "Not guilty."

Draco's mouth dropped. He was so shocked by Potter's verdict that he didn't even hear the minister grudgingly clearing him of all charges.

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Harry woke on the last day before term to find Draco staring at him from where he sat on his own bed. "My turn to catch you staring is it?" he asked, as he sat up. He quickly sat back down, however, when he realized he didn't have a shirt on. "God, it's freezing in here!" Draco flicked his wand at it instantly warmed. Harry sat up, "gave that back to you, did they?"

"Yes, after you decided that I wasn't guilty. I don't get you, Potter. I mean for years we've—"

"My name is Harry, Draco, not Potter."

The blonde looked taken aback. "Alright, I don't get you, _Harry_. We've hated each other for years and then suddenly you have the chance to lock me away after I almost killed your beloved mentor and you don't take it. I mean I…I just can't…I don't understand it."

"You wouldn't, you're a Slytherin. I agree with Dumbledore; I don't think you're a bad person, Draco. And besides, I made the decision strictly on what I saw in the courtroom, not taking into account personal information. I think what won it for me was…well, I imagine that if my mother were alive I'd do anything to keep her safe. _Anything_." He went quiet.

"But still," Draco persisted, "even before the hearing, you bought me clothes and you didn't make cracks about what…what happened to me."

"Of all the times to make fun of you, Draco, I think that after you were tortured would be the least appropriate. And besides, I don't _hate_ you. You can be insufferably annoying, you can say some pretty damn horrible things at times, but you're not a bad person and I don't hate you." Harry stood and walked over to where his clothes were already packed in a new trunk, riffling through them for a shirt and some pants to replace his pajama ones.

Draco stood as well. "So what, we're just going to forget what happened for the last six years and start over?" Draco couldn't help himself, even as he begged it to come back his mind was wandering to places he rarely let it go. Potter…Harry, being kind to him; buying things for him, acting like a friend…it was all so…arousing. Finally, Draco understood all the "heart of a lion" comments and it enticed him to no end. He forced his mind back to the current situation to listen to what Harry was saying.

"No, not forget, just forgive. I forgive you, Draco, for everything that you've done to me and to my friends. I'm willing to start over if you are." He stood and turned to see Draco standing just inches from him. Surprisingly, he did not move back; he doubted that he could if he had wanted to.

"I think…that's a good idea." Draco stared directly into Harry's eyes as he said it. He noticed the flecks of gold in the sea of green, the way Harry's mouth twitched when he was nervous as he was now, the way his nose supported the new glasses that were curtained by untidy I—don't—give—a—damn bangs. Before he could think better of it and before Harry could move back, Draco leaned in and pressed his lips to Harry's. Harry didn't respond, just sort of stood there with lips parted as Draco kissed him, tongue flicking the opening. Draco wanted more than anything to reach hands up to cradle the boy's face, but he didn't dare move them. Suddenly, in one swift move, Harry pushed him back and stared at him. His face wasn't angry or upset or anything Draco would have expected…he looked confused.

Before Draco could speak, Harry had left the room. At first Draco was upset, though not surprised. Harry was obviously straight, he shouldn't have kissed him, but he was still upset that it had been so short. But those feelings quickly gave way to anger. Why would he reject him like that? Who did he think he was? And in that instant he wasn't Draco, seventeen, standing in Grimmauld Place; he was Draco, eleven, standing in the doorway of a compartment on the Hogwarts Express as a much younger version of Harry stared blankly at Draco's outstretched hand.

"_I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."_


	6. Not the Way It Was

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Harry appeared at Draco's trial as a peer juror; Dumbledore rose for the defense, and when the vote came to Harry he ruled Draco innocent. When Harry offered Draco a chance to start over, Draco kissed him.

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A/N: As usual, I love the comments, so thanks. I've written up through chapter nine so far, so I'll get them posted when they get back from the beta (who, for whatever reason, asked to remain anonymous). I did turn on anonymous commenting, so thank you mandraco! Lots of stuff going on on my end, but I'll try and keep the updates constant. Thanks for reading, all.

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**Chapter Six: Not the Way It Was**

Harry did not speak to Draco the rest of the day or even the next morning when the two of them, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all crammed into a ministry vehicle to be taken to King's Cross Station. Even on the train he avoided him, though truth be told it wasn't as if Draco was trying to find Harry. When Harry had walked past his compartment, Draco didn't even look up.

He was still trying to wrap his head around what had happened the previous day; one moment he'd been forgiving Malfoy, the next minute kissing him. But he wasn't the one kissing, it was the other way around, wasn't it? If it had happened again, would he have pushed Malfoy off? Was he upset that Malfoy had done it? Or…something else. He pushed the troubling thoughts away from him, focusing once more on Hermione who had not stopped talking since she and Ron had gotten back from their prefect's meeting.

"I just don't understand why we've been forced to drop classes!"

"Hermione, this isn't a _bad_ thing."

"Yes it is! What am I going to do without ancient runes?"

"The same thing you did with ancient runes, that subject's totally useless."

"Not if I wanted to study them in other countries!"

"Do you?"

"No…but still, it would be nice to have the option."

Harry, having been lost in his own thoughts for the first part of the conversation, was thoroughly confused. "Wait, what's happening?"

Hermione snapped her head in his direction so fast he thought that she might have given herself whiplash. "Haven't you been listening?"

"No er…sorry, I haven't. I've got some things on my mind."

"McGonagall just told us that we've been forced to cut down to four classes."

"How many were you planning on taking?"

"At least six."

"Six!"

"Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Ancient Runes, and Herbology. Maybe even Care of Magical Creatures if I had the time."

Harry thought on it for a few moments before saying, "Well, I'll be taking Potions, defense, Transfiguration, and Charms then."

"Auror subjects," Ron correctly guessed. "Sounds like my schedule too, then."

"Hermione, you'll probably be able to take some extra classes. I mean, if they gave you a time turner in third year, there bound to let you do it again this year."

"I hope so; it would be such a waste to have taken those classes for years and now not be able to get NEWTs in them!"

"Yeah, rotten shame. I wonder who our new potions teacher will be." Ron said, changing the subject before Hermione could start yelling again.

"What do you mean, it's Slughorn isn't it?" Harry asked.

"Nope, Dad and I heard something at the ministry a few weeks back; seems Slughorn up and left at the end of last year. Just like a Slytherin to run and hide when the going gets tough." Harry was stung by the words but neither Ron nor Hermione could possibly know; the Slytherin _hadn't_ run, he had.

"That means that there's a new head of house for Slytherin, isn't there? It's probably going to be Sinistra."

Their compartment door opened and Ginny came in with Neville in tow. She, like Harry, was dressed in some of the new clothes they'd bought; and she, like Harry, was turning more than a few heads every time she walked down the train.

"Isn't this new class schedule thing great?" Neville asked the compartment at large as he entered and sat beside Ginny.

"Already got your classes figured out then, huh?" Harry said quickly, for fear that Hermione would slip back into her angry rant.

"Sure do. Charms, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic."

"Why on earth would you take _those_?" Ron asked, earning himself a stern look from Ginny.

"Well, I've always been really good at Herbology and Charms, and I like History of Magic because there's no wand work involved. And Care of Magical Creatures makes sense if I'm going to be doing something with Herbology. It was either that or Potions, so I thought the choice was obvious."

Ginny smiled and held Neville's hand in her own. "He's so goal-oriented." Both Neville and Harry blushed.

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"Now that we have eaten, I'd like to say a few words." Dumbledore stood before the sea of students, noticeably more bare this year than it had been last year, with hands outstretched in a welcoming gesture. The new students had been sorted, the old and the new fed, and now it was time for the headmaster's traditional welcome-back speech. Harry leaned forward in his seat to see around Ron, who was leaning over the table from a stomach ache.

"I would like to start by saying that, even though some parents do not agree, Hogwarts is as safe a place as any in these troubling times. We have all noticed, I take it, that there is declining enrollment this year, but classes will continue in almost the same fashion. There have been some security measures put in place, which I feel all students should be made aware of. The forest on the edge of the grounds is, as always, forbidden; I must also ask that no one enter the closed off portion of the seventh floor corridor."

"What's his deal with the seventh floor?" Ginny asked.

"The room of requirement's on that floor," Harry said, not looking to her.

"The room of what?" Seamus asked, holding on to Ginny's hand a little too tightly. But Hermione shushed them before he could explain and Harry felt a bit of vindictive pleasure in ignoring him. A sly smile spread over his face until he looked across the hall and caught eyes with a certain fair-skinned blonde; then grin turned frown as a wave of shame washed over him. _What do I have to be ashamed about?_ He thought. He wondered briefly why Ginny was holding Dean's hand…wasn't she with Neville on the train?

"Also, as the prefects have been made aware, there have been some changes to the schedules for some seventh year students."

"Some students? I thought all students had changes. Then there's still hope that I might get to take ancient runes!" Hermione was bordering on hysterics by the time she finished her sentence.

"Tomorrow morning, all seventh year students will receive an envelope. In it will be one of two things; either a class schedule based on your sixth year agenda, or a letter requesting that you meet with me in the Great Hall tomorrow at eleven o'clock. Also, all prefects from fifth and sixth years should plan on attending the meeting as well.

"Now, we have some new additions to the staff, although not all Professors could attend this evening, as they have other business to be attending to. Taking over full time as Divination Professor, Firenze. Our new Defense Against the Arts Professor, some of you remember him from a few years ago, Professor Lupin. And finally, our new Potions Mistress, Professor Tonks." The students applauded politely, but it was somewhat reserved. Those who remembered Remus also remembered that he was a werewolf. Most of them didn't know Tonks, but Harry had a feeling that once they met her, they'd be even more skeptical of the headmaster's staffing decisions.

"They let Tonks be a _teacher?_" Ron asked, incredulously.

"Why not, she's great with memory so she'll be a wiz at remembering recipes."

"Yeah, but she's a klutz!"

"With that out of the way, I think it's time to announce this year's new head boy and girl. The new head boy, from Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan." There was considerable applause from the Hufflepuff table as the Slytherins looked daggers at them; of course, they hardly stood a chance of getting their seventh year prefect as head boy after he tried to off the headmaster. "And our new head girl, from Gryffindor, Hermione Granger."

"Knew it!" Called Ron

"Way to go, 'mione!" Harry said, squeezing her shoulder. The Gryffindors cheered loudest of all, but the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables helped; they didn't even want to imagine what life would be like with Pansy Parkinson as head girl.

The instant Dumbledore finished bidding the students goodnight and instructing prefects to guide first years to their common rooms, the hall was abuzz with whispers.

"I wonder what we'll be doing at the meeting," Ron asked a slightly out-of-breath Ernie Macmillan as they squeezed through the double doors.

"Probably something to do with security, if I know Dumbledore. I've got to go help with the first years, Ron, but I'll see you tomorrow. Shouldn't you be helping too?"

Ron shrugged. "Eh…Hermione can handle it." Ernie nodded and pushed his way through the crowd of students.

"Ronald Arthur Weasley!"

Ron pivoted immediately. "Mum? Oh, it's just you Hermione." She grabbed his tie knot and pulled him so that their faces were inches apart. "You want to kiss me now, in front of all these people? And I have to say; I'd be willing to try the role-play thing, but not if you insist on being my mother."

"If you don't start helping me with these students, I'll give you detention."

"Now _there's_ a fantasy I can get on board with! I'll be the detained school-boy and you can be the big bad headmistress and…you're not playing around are you?"

She gave him one last stern look before she spun around and started barking orders towards a group of first-year girls who were blushing and giggling madly at the extremely handsome, albeit half-horse, Divination Professor.

As Harry moved around, trying to avoid being stepped on or shoved into a hallway as he made for the marble staircase, he bumped into someone with painfully bony shoulders. "Ow, oh, sorry." He turned and saw steel-grey eyes staring back at him. "Oh, Draco, I—"

"Watch it, Potter, not everyone wants to bump into the golden boy."

Draco was gone before Harry could respond, and as Harry climbed the staircase and took a shortcut to the fourth floor to avoid being trampled by the first years he found that he was more stung by the blonde's reaction than he deemed suitable. Why would he care if Draco…Malfoy didn't want to speak to him again? Wasn't it better that way? He couldn't lie to himself; he knew it wasn't.

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As Draco strode into the familiar candle-lit dungeon he'd called home for the better part of six years, he found that some things had changed. He had to stop and take it all in before he could decide what to do with it. The candles burned brighter and there were more of them, decorative ones, set on tables so that the room had a warmer glow to it. The chairs had been rearranged so that most of them faced the fire, and some others sat in circles near tall bookshelves. There were reference books casually placed on chairs and end tables, vases with white and green flowers in full bloom despite the season, and most dreadfully of all, someone had put a window along the longest wall that faced the dormitory hallways. It must have been magically designed to show a starry night, because if it were an actual window it would definitely be showing the bottom of the lake.

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy, do you like it?" Draco looked down at a short but thin woman with very long blonde hair to rival his own. She had bright blue eyes that complimented her fair skin tone, and her hair seemed to flow into her silver dress, which moved as if underwater and was charmed to give off faint sparkling stars. Professor Sinistra, Astronomy teacher.

"Well, it's…different."

"Good, change is a good thing!"

Draco would have liked to argue, but it was clear that Sinistra was their new head of house, it wouldn't do to get on bad terms to early in the year. And truth be told, he was a little glad to find someone who didn't look at him as if he might attack them any second.

"I suppose."

"So you didn't get head boy, too bad, Draco, I thought you would have done well." Draco wondered why she thought this, as he had only taken her class for one year, but said nothing. "Either way, I hope you can do well for Slytherin this year as you have in the past two. I have to be going, I was rather hoping the other prefects would have arrived by now, but tell them what I told you, will you Draco? About honoring our house, and all."

She waved over her shoulder as she strode out of the common room and Draco shook his head; this was going to be a long year, he could tell.

He went to his room without bothering to stay and greet his old friends; having entered the Great Hall a bit late, he hadn't had an opportunity to speak to them but he wasn't really looking forward to that conversation. _Hi Draco, I spent the summer in Italy with my family, tanning on a beach, what did you do?_ Or _Hello Draco, darling, I've been absolutely swamped over the past months trying to organize my wardrobe, what have you accomplished?_ He could hide from Pansy, but it was only a matter of time before Blaise came in to go to bed.

He decided the best course of action would be to be asleep by the time Blaise came in, so he changed and crawled into his bed. The sheets were cold at first, but they warmed around him the longer he stayed. Finally, now that his mind was free the buzz of directing students and trying not to be killed in the stampede, it came to rest on Harry Potter. He _had_ actually seemed sincere when he'd apologized, but that was when he didn't know who he'd bumped into. _Oh, Draco_; like someone acknowledging a despised acquaintance. But even as Draco tried his best to hate Harry for his rejection the previous afternoon, all he could think of was how soft and warm Harry's lips had been; how he trembled slightly as Draco flicked his tongue over the slight divide.

He was shook from his thoughts as the door opened rather forcefully. Draco didn't need to look to know who it was; only Blaise was barbaric enough to open a door that way. He lay still, hoping that Blaise wouldn't think him awake.

"They tell me snakes rarely sleep, so I'll assume you're awake." He and Draco were the only two in the room; there was no question about whom he was speaking to. "The last thing the people in this house need is evidence as to why we're all death eaters, Malfoy. The rest of this school hated us because they all thought we worked for our parents, and now they hate us because they think they know we work for our parents. So I hope you didn't have any delusions about coming back and things being how they were before you got branded, because no one in this house wants to talk to you. Myself and Pansy included."

Draco heard rustling sheets as Blaise climbed into his own bed, but still he did not move. It wasn't until Theodore Nott had come in and gone to bed and Draco heard both their slight snores sounding into the darkness that he dared sit up to close the curtains around his four poster. When he laid his head back to the pillow, he felt his eyes water, so he closed his eyelids as tightly as he could manage to keep the tears at bay.

Yes, a very long year.


	7. A Renewed House Unity

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Dumbledore announced that some seventh year students would only be allowed four classes; Hermione was made head girl; and Draco found out that coming back to Slytherin wasn't going to be as easy as he'd hoped.

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A/N: Thanks again for the comments people, I love feedback. Yes, poor rejected Draco...but hey! Harry's confused! Well either way...something will happen eventually ;) Thanks for reading

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**Chapter Seven: A Renewed House Unity**

"You've no choice in the matter, why do you resist?"

"I have a choice, Lucius; you know just as well as I that I am indeed a powerful asset. Were I to die, your ties to me would become useless and your position with that snake considerably worsened." Narcissa Malfoy no longer looked at her husband when she spoke to him. It wasn't because she hated him or because she was disgusted by him, though she was both of those; it was because every time she looked into his eyes, she saw Draco looking back. It chilled her to think that Draco would grow to be anything like his father. So instead of turning to meet his stare, she instead gazed out of the window that had become her only connection to the outside world for some time now.

"I too have value, Narcissa."

"Money is not necessary, Lucius."

"You know that isn't what I am speaking of." His tone was low and deadly, and she knew without a doubt what he was referring to.

"I do."

"Then you know what must be done?"

"I do."

"Good, I expect to have your belongings collected and a carriage ready in thirty minutes." He left the room; he moved with grace and made no sound, but she could tell the moment he'd left.

She looked down to her left where, on her desk, there was a framed portrait of her only son. He was much younger and crouching in a thicket of tall grass that threatened to conceal him entirely. Through a few blades Narcissa could see him smiling; it wasn't a dark smile or a smug smile or any of the ones she'd seen on Lucius. It was an honest smile, so she kept it there always to remind herself that if Draco became like his father, it wasn't for lack of trying.

She sat at the desk and withdrew some pieces of parchment and a quill. As she wrote, her elegant handwriting became more strained and, as a result, more chaotic. Her hand moved in harder, forced strokes and her grip tightened around the frail quill. The instant she finished signing her signature, the quill snapped and a pool of black ink settled around the base of the paper. In one strong motion she heaved the ink bottle, quill, and paper off the desk, catching the photo frame by accident.

She stood and looked down at the photo, glass cracked in so many places that she could no longer see her son's smile, as it bled black ink onto the marble floor. Just for one instant, she allowed herself to cry; and then she composed herself and left the room, following the familiar path to the front door.

A carriage was expecting her.

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_To Mr. Harry Potter,_

_Your presence has been requested at a meeting of your peers this morning at eleven o'clock in the Great Hall. Please be punctual._

_Thank You,_

_Minerva McGonagall _

Harry set his envelope and letter down on the pile Hermione and Ron had started, taking his seat opposite Ginny on a sofa near the fire.

"I wonder what he's got planned for us," Harry thought out loud, "you said they didn't mention anything at the prefects meeting on the train, Hermione?"

She was still a bit sullen from having received an invitation to the meeting. "What? Oh, yes, they didn't mention it."

"Well we should be going soon, right? I mean, it's only ten, but we'll have to eat."

"Leave it to you to think of food, Ron."

"Whatever, let's go, I'm starving," said Hermione, standing and walking towards the portrait hole so that they had no choice but to follow her. When they were all through, Hermione said, "Actually, you two go on ahead, I've got something I need to look up."

When she had left, Ron heaved a heavy sigh. "Glad to see you're enjoying her company, then," Harry said, smiling.

"You try listening to that for a few hours, see how much you want her to run off to the library."

"Can't argue with that. I can't tell you how many times when I was researching with her over the summer I'd stop and wish that one of us would get mauled by a hippogriff."

"Yeah, but you gotta love her."

"Do you?"

"Well…I don't know about that. I mean, not in that way at least. I guess we're getting there."

"Had sex yet?"

Ron stopped in his tracks at the forwardness in Harry's question. "My god, what's with you Harry? Last year you were all reserved…sort of…and now you're wearing flashy clothes and being really, _really _blunt."

Harry looked down at his clothes with a frown; they weren't that flashy, were they? Just a pair of "jeans" and a tight red shirt with some graphic logo he couldn't make out; something with a unicorn and a hippocamp. "I guess I've 'almost died' one too many times, Ron, knocked a screw loose." He kept walking and Ron took a few long strides to fall in step again.

"Seriously, what's up? Ginny said something about making people like you?"

Harry blushed. "I don't think those were her exact words, Ron. I guess I'm…growing up?"

"Well, good on you, mate! It only took seventeen years."

"Maybe I should be wishing for _you_ to get mauled by a hippogriff."

They had reached the Great Hall and, much to Ron's chagrin, the food had already been cleared away. Instead, they saw that the house tables were pushed against the walls like they had been in the Yule ball, and the people who had already arrived were standing around talking with one another.

"We got here an hour early and there's no food? What are we going to _do_?"

"Relax, Weasley, you're not an hour early." They turned to see Blaise Zabinni looking at them from atop one of the tables where he sat cross-legged with a book perched on one knee. Harry couldn't help notice the way the Italian boy's dark curly hair fell across his face or the way his long, thin fingers were tapping the table on which he sat, pounding out a rhythm that Harry would have been more than happy to move to. She shook himself mentally; first Draco, now Blaise? What was this? Draco's kiss must have done something to him…. But even as he thought on it, memories rushed back to him; Harry staring just a few seconds too long at shirtless Wood in the Quiditch changing rooms, himself watching Cedric's toned frame jog a few paces ahead of him into the maze in fourth year.

"We're not?"

"No, it's going to start in a few minutes."

"Oh…well then why are you here? You're…" Ron was apparently lost on the right word.

"What, stupid?" Blaise suggested, and Ron blushed. Sure, Blaise wasn't top of the class, but he wasn't stupid. Why was he being so conversational anyway?

"No, I just didn't expect you here, that's all."

"Or to be talking to us," Harry said, trying to forget the time he'd walked in, accidentally of course, on Bill Weasley changing at the burrow.

"Well, after what happened at the end of last year, we Slytherins have to save some face, right? Can't do to have you all thinking we're going to be killing you in you sleep, per the dark lord's instruction."

"You're not, then?"

"Didn't say that, but it would make it easier if you weren't all on edge." He gave a wry grin before turning his attention back to his book.

"Oh good, it hasn't started yet!" They turned and saw Hermione rushing towards them with a few books tucked under one arm. "I was in the library for what seemed like hours, I was worried I might be late."

"Well, you couldn't have been there that long, only about ten minutes."

"Oh, that's not possible, I was there for at_ lease_ a half hour."

"That's strange…because we came straight here and we just got here…"

"Good morning, everyone!" They quieted and turned, as did the rest of the students, towards Professor Dumbledore who was standing where he had the previous night to better see them all. "I thank you all for coming. I believe we're all present except for…" The doors opened and someone rushed in. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy, you're here now. We can begin."

Harry, who's mind was already exploring the past opportunities to linger in the changing rooms, shifted at the sound of Draco's name so that the blonde was the one undressing, not the tan muscular Wood. At this, his body began to have a horrifying reaction. _Oh, fantastic!_ Harry thought, moving to sit on Blaise's table to better conceal himself. _Ok, gross thoughts, gross thoughts…er….Dobby in women's underwear…er...Moaning Myrtle stripping…er…_

"Now, you are all wondering why you're here, I assume? Actually, we have two orders of business. The first is with the prefects, excluding the heads. If all the prefects could gather round me? Everyone else, just wait a few moments and we'll be finished here shortly."

Ron moved towards the headmaster as Hermione came to sit next to Harry. "Is something wrong, Harry? You kind of freaked out there for a second." Harry heard a scoff to his right and looked to see Blaise smirking as he read.

"No, nothing's wrong, I just had a problem to take care of."

"Well, what is it, maybe I can help?" A second scoff, louder this time, and Harry glowered.

"No it was er…a fit of…leg itches."

"Oh, it was probably a Hubblypolka Bug, I hear we've been having those around here. Actually, I think one of these books might mention something…" She trailed off as she flipped through one of the dusty tomes she's borrowed.

"Hey, Potter; I know how to get rid of it," Blaise said in a voice so low only Harry could hear him. He looked over and saw Blaise miming a rather crude hand gesture and he quickly looked back to Hermione, blushing furiously. Blaise giggled behind him.

The prefects started making their way towards the door. "Oh, well, I'll find it for you later, Harry. Remind me, ok? I've got a lot to be getting on with and—"

"If the rest of you will please come here?"

They moved towards the headmaster, Harry's problem now alleviated, so that they formed a tight semi-circle around him. There were only a handful of them; Harry, Ernie, Hermione, Blaise, Lavender Brown, and a Slytherin girl whom Harry didn't recognize.

"Now, for those of you who don't know, there was a secret society of sorts formed at this school two years ago under the code name _Dumbledore's Army_." The headmaster winked at Harry. "Essentially, this group would meet and learn extra defense spells so that they might be better prepared should anything happen. During the commotion at the end of last year, a handful of students were involved in a fight against Death Eaters; each one was a member of _Dumbledore's Army_ and each one escaped relatively unscathed. It is therefore my decision to restart this group, only this time it shall be made public.

"Every weekend in the evenings we will be holding classes for a group of students, fourth year and above, to be taught defensive spells. Each of you will be the teachers." There were some mixed reactions; Hermione beamed, Harry looked uneasy, Blaise looked confused, and Ernie, Lavender and the mystery girl had dropped their jaws.

"But Professor," the unknown protested, "what about studying?"

"And Quiditch?" Harry added.

"Well, this is the reason your schedules have been truncated. And, as for Quiditch well, I haven't yet announced it but there will be none this year. The Ministry has deemed it unsafe given present circumstances to have the student body concentrated somewhere outdoors, so it was one of their stipulations in allowing the school to reopen this year." There was a familiar note of finality in the old man's words that shooed all protests out of Harry's mind.

"Now, each of you will have a specific job. Miss Granger, you shall be in charge of organizing _who_ will be at each meeting. Mr. Zabinni, you will be in charge of letting those people know. Mr. Macmillan will be in charge of rescheduling extra curricular meetings so that they do not interfere with these ones. Miss Dutra and Miss Brown, you both will be in charge of setting up the classrooms to be used so that they are suitable for each class. And finally, Mr. Potter, you will be in charge of deciding what is to be taught, and also making sure everyone teaching understands and is comfortable with it."

They all nodded their heads as the headmaster paused to let the information soak in.

"The first meeting will be this Saturday evening, so you had all better be planning. I suggest that you put someone in charge of keeping you all organized, so that you'll all be on the same page. Are there any brief questions before I go?"

"Yes, Professor, I have one."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are there limits on what we're allowed to teach?"

"No unforgivables."

"That's all?"

"That is all. And if there are no more questions…good, I'll be going then. Thank you all, and good luck with the first meeting."

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As Dumbledore left the hall, the girl whom Harry did not recognize cleared her throat. "Well, I think that I'll make an excellent coordinator. My job only requires my time just before the meetings begin, and besides that I'm splitting it with Lavender. So if no one has any objections…?" Harry was impressed by her charismatic speech; she spoke with enough authority to keep focus but not enough to seem bossy. Yes, it was easy to see why she belonged in Slytherin.

Hermione looked as if she was about to speak, so the Slytherin continued. "I know you would want to have the job, Hermione, but it's my understanding you're going to request additional classes? It just seems fit that I take this job, as I'll have a normal work load and much more free time. My name is Penelope, by the way, for any of you who don't know me." Hermione said nothing.

"So, Harry, you're going to need to figure out what we're going to be doing then?"

"Yeah, I think that maybe we should start with the basics. Maybe a disarming charm and a stunning jinx. They're pretty basic, but they're also pretty useful and not all people are comfortable with them."

"Good, does everyone know those?"

"Actually…I might need some help." Harry looked to Blaise, whose tan cheeks were now touched with a faint blush. "Not the stunning charm, but the disarming one. I never really got that one."

"Ok then, Harry and Blaise, you two will need to find time to practice so that Blaise can teach it on Saturday. Hermione, you can schedule the meetings by tomorrow so that Ernie can clear schedules and Blaise can inform people. I think we should keep it to around twenty per class?"

"I think we can handle a few more. In the DA in fifth year, Harry was teaching a lot more of us," Hermione said.

"Twenty-five then, but I don't want to start off big. Not all of us are born teachers; we need to work up to more people," Lavender replied. Not a single one of them could miss the hostility between the two girls.

"Ok then, everyone has their jobs." Penelope continued. "Why don't we plan on meeting at breakfast tomorrow morning. We've all got classes so it shouldn't be a problem."

They all nodded in agreement and set off towards their separate common rooms. Harry and Hermione had just reached the entrance hall when Blaise caught up to them.

"So, Harry, what time then?"

"Huh? Oh, right. Er…how's Wednesday for you?"

"Perfect, when and where?"

"After dinner, in classroom thirty-one on the third floor?"

"The one by that statue of Wilhelmina the Weird?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"Ok then, see you there," he said, walking around the staircase to a door Harry knew to lead to the dungeons.

"It's a little strange, don't you think?" Hermione asked when they had reached the first floor landing.

"What is?"

"That Blaise and you are speaking."

"We never weren't speaking, Hermione."

"I'm just saying, I think it's strange that he's so conversational. It's not as if he was mean before, but he wasn't a good friend or even an acquaintance."

"This war is changing a lot of things, Hermione; I guess this is one of them."

"I suppose…" she did not seem convinced.


	8. Draco's Ashes

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Lucius offered Narcissa an ultimatum; Dumbledore announced renewed DA lessons run by Harry, Hermione, Blaise, Ernie, Lavender, and the mysterious Penelope Dutra; Harry and Blaise made an appointment to teach Blaise the disarming charm.

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A/N: Ok...so there might not be any updates for a week or so because I'm having problems with my laptop. sigh I need a mac...in any case, I promise to post at least two more when I get this fixed, so bare with me XD Thanks for reading all! And yes...Blaise does seem to be up to something. Hm... Oh, and someone asked what Draco was doing at the meeting a few chapters back; well, here's your explanation

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**Chapter Eight: Draco's Ashes**

As Draco left the Great Hall, walking as fast as he could without jogging, he heard someone calling for him. "Oi, Malfoy, you want to come back here?" He slowed to a normal pace but did not stop. As the resounding footfalls of whoever it was grew louder, Draco had no choice but to stop and address them. He turned; it was Weasel. Just _fantastic_.

"What do you want, Weasley?"

"We're partnered, you git. I don't like it either, but we don't really have a choice."

"We don't, but _you _do. Here it is: leave me alone or get jinxed."

"You can't talk to me like that, I'm a prefect!"

"So am I, you prat. That's what got us into this mess."

"Well, we've got to come up with something for this stupid project, so what do you want to do."

"I think I've made that clear."

"Why don't we throw parties?"

"Yeah! And then we can sit in a circle and sing while someone brews a vat of friendship tea!"

"I'm just saying, it seems like a party would be a really casual way for people to…you know, mingle."

"Fine, Weasley, just make it happen."

"Make it happen? I don't answer to you, Malfoy, and I'm not your servant. We're partners in this, you have to help too."

Draco sighed. "Fine, how's this. I'm obviously more adept at decorating and preparing for a party, having actually attended some, so why don't I do that. And you can…I don't know, you can be in charge of invitations."

"How many people?"

"Fifteen, and they can bring a date."

"A date?"

"If there's one thing we all have in common it's our desire to get some; hence, dates. You can even bring along your beaver girlfriend, maybe you might get lucky."

"Shut up about her, Malfoy. And besides, at least I will _have_ a date to this party."

The words stung, but Draco didn't dare let it show. "Whatever, Weasel. Like I said, make it happen." Before Ron could say anything, Draco spun on his heel and continued down through the dungeons. Along the way he spotted a first year Hufflepuff who had gotten lost and somehow ended up near the potions classroom whom he gave detention for loitering. It raised his spirits a bit, but it wasn't enough. By the time he reached the common room, he was ready to crawl into bed and not come out.

No one acknowledged him as he entered, which suited him fine; better they ignore him than try and kill him. He was headed towards his shared dormitory when something caught his eye; an article on the cover of a discarded Daily Prophet. He snatched it off of it's end table and read.

**One of Britain's Richest Women: KIDNAPPED**

_Ministry officials, who visit the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire on a regular basis after the escape of Death Eater and Malfoy patriarch Lucius Malfoy, arrived last evening to find that the manor had been abandoned. In a prophet exclusive, Bernie Mercer, a Ministry Official on the scene, told us that "At first we thought that Lady Malfoy was just out, she likes to go out in the evenings, but then we found the note." Mercer was referring to a note that appears to have been written by Lady Narcissa Malfoy herself. Along with the note, a further investigation found signs of a struggle, implying that Narcissa was taken from the manor, as apposed to leaving it of her own will. _

_The Ministry has yet to divulge the exact contents of the note; however Loretta Worshaw, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, has announced that the contents of the note have led the Ministry to believe that the person responsible for the abduction was none other than Luscious Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy's husband. Worshaw also had this to say: "It is strange that the abducted would have time to write a note, which we feel implies that Mrs. Malfoy knew beforehand that she would be taken. Most often when the victim knows that he or she will be taken before the fact, the culprit is a member of the family or in some cases a close friend." The Ministry believes that Narcissa is still alive. However, were there evidence to the contrary, the next of kin would be immediately notified. This would be, of course, Draco Malfoy, who was recently relieved of all charges brought against him last June._

_The results of the investigation are only on a preliminary basis, however—"_

Draco felt the paper drop to the floor. For a moment, his surroundings seemed almost surreal; as if he were not experiencing them, but watching them being experienced. Sounds carried a faint echo and the flickering candles made the room appear as if it were shifting slightly, blurring in and out of focus. From somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that he had begun to sway but he did not care. When he fell to his knees, however, he knocked his head against the table. As the sobering taste of blood trickled into his mouth from his split lip, he stood and looked around the common room.

All eyes were on him; some were glistening with a bit of glee, some clouded in lack of understanding. Without saying a word of explanation he raised his wand and said "_Mobili Daily Prophet," _so that all the copies of the paper went soaring into the lit fireplace. There were some noises of indignation, but they faded the instant Draco shut himself in his room. He was alone, thank god, so he sat on the edge of his bed, mind refusing to think further on what he'd just read. He laid down and was about to fall asleep when the creak of the door an a sound of beating wings woke him. He sat up, mortified. _The next of kin would be immediately notified…_

With a sense of dread building in every cell of his being, he untied the letter from the barn owl's outstretched leg. Before he could think better of it, he opened it as the owl flew back out of the dormitory.

_Draco,_

_Meet me behind the greenhouses at ten Thursday night._

_-HP_

Mortification gave way to anger as Draco raised his wand at the parchment before him. "_Incendio!"_ he shouted, and the letter was replaced with a small pile of dark ash. Behind him, the door opened again and Draco spun around, ready to jinx whoever had just entered.

It was Blaise. "I heard about your mother. Seems you made a pretty big fuss in the common room, people are complaining."

"Shove off, Blaise, I don't want to hear it."

"You mistake me, Draco. I'm not here to ridicule you." As he stared into one of the dark stone corners, Draco felt a warm hand find his shoulder.

"Then what are you here for, Blaise? I was going to sleep, but then I remembered that snakes don't do that, so I've got all the time in the world to hear you out." The grip on his shoulder tightened.

"Suppose I deserved that. Pansy's mom works in the ministry, you know. She got a hold of your court transcripts…so I think I owe you an apology. I mean, if Dumbledore forgives you I suppose I can too."

Draco turned to face him. "I…" he had considered tossing a shrewd jab, but when he looked into his old friend's eyes, he saw that he was sincere. "Thank you, Blaise. It…means something to me that you would say that."

Blaise patted his shoulder. "Of course, Draco; what are friends for, right? We're supposed to be acting more like Gryffindors; I supposed this was a good place to start. You know that the rest of the house won't be as forgiving though, right?"

"Of course. This is Slytherin, not Hufflepuff."

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Harry poked at his dinner lazily with a fork. He'd sent the message to Draco two days ago, and here it was, Wednesday evening, and still no reply. At first he wasn't even sure why he'd sent it, he didn't have any reason to speak to Draco. Then, he reasoned, it wouldn't be right to treat him like that. He'd told Draco that he was going to start over, and he had to stand by his word, even if it meant inviting him to come and rant at him for a few hours. He was sure Draco would have a lot to say, and he was not looking forward to their meeting; assuming, of course, that it was still on.

"Harry?"

He turned and saw Blaise walking towards him. "What…oh, right; disarming lessons."

"Right, you almost ready?" Blaise looked nervously at the surrounding Gryffindors who were whispering to each other and staring shamelessly.

Harry smiled at the Italian's nervousness. "Yeah, we can go now. I wasn't really that hungry anyway." He turned to Ron and Hermione. "I'll be up in a few hours, alright. Wait up, will you?"

Hermione nodded. "Yeah, we have to. Ron needs help with defense and I need help with planning the meeting."

"Right, well I'll try and hurry then."

He stood and walked with Blaise out of the Great Hall, pulling more than a few confused stares as they left. "

"You said classroom thirty-one, right?" Blaise asked, when they started climbing the stairs.

"Yeah, it's usually empty and it's about the same distance from both our common rooms."

"How do you know where our common room is?"

Harry smiled as memories of his and Ron's stint as Crabbe and Goyle came to mind. "Oh, I read it in _Hogwarts, a History_."

"Oh, right. Oh, before I forget…" Blaise stopped on the second floor landing to rustle through his robes for something. When Harry turned, Blaise was holding an outstretched clenched fist. Harry put his hand under Blaise's, and he released, letting clumps of patted ash fall into his hand.

"What's this?"

"It's from Draco, he said you would understand. Since when do you two talk, anyway?"

Harry's heart sunk as he realized he was holding the remains of his sent letter. "He didn't tell you?"

"Oh, about him staying with you guys over the summer?" They resumed walking. "Yeah, he told me, but I just assumed he avoided you at all costs."

"Yeah, he pretty much did."

It was nearly two hours later in the evening, and still Blaise had yet to successfully disarm Harry. He'd gotten the incantation down, his wand motions were perfect, and yet still Harry blocked his attempts every time.

"_Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!"_

"Focus, Blaise." Harry could tell he was getting frustrated.

"_Expelliarmus, Expelliarmus, Expelliarmus!"_ Blocked, blocked, and blocked. "Oh, this is hopeless. I've got the basics, I'll just spare the class the live demonstration."

"Are we done then? Because I'm supposed to be helping Hermione to—"

"—_Expelliarmus!"_

Harry's wand flew out of his hand. "Hey! That's cheating!"

Blaise offered a look of mock innocence. "What? I'm a _Slytherin_, Harry, it's what we do." As Harry was about to pick up his wand, Blaise said, "_Accio Wand!_" and it went flying to him.

"Come on, Blaise, enough games. Give me my wand."

Blaise pretended not to hear him. "Hmm….I've got _the_ Harry Potter's wand! Wonder what I could sell this for...I imagine it would fetch a few galleons in Hogsmeade, don't you?"

Harry stepped quickly towards him, but Blaise held the wand back and above his head so that Harry couldn't reach it. "Ok, fine. If you want it, you can have it." He said, laughing, but still holding the wand out of reach.

"Blaise, come _on_. I haven't got time for this!" Harry reached further so that he was leaning slightly on the Italian boy in an effort to retrieve his wand. He stopped, however, when he realized that their faces were only inches apart. He looked to Blaise who was staring intently back at him, smile gone. They stayed there an instant before Harry took a step back and Blaise straightened, handing Harry his wand.

"Well thanks for the lesson, Harry." He winked as he left the classroom.

Harry smoothed out his robes and took his wand, extinguishing the lights as he left. Somewhere along the fifth corridor, he heard a voice from behind him. "It's after hours, that'll be a detention!" He turned and saw Draco standing in the middle of the hallway. "Oh, Potter, it's you. In that case, two detentions."

"I got your little present from Blaise," Harry said, closing the gap between them so that when he stopped they were only a foot apart.

"He _just_ gave that to you? He was supposed to give it to you Monday!"

"Whatever, Draco." Harry turned to walk away.

"Potter, get back here, I'm not through with you. I actually have something for you."

When Harry turned he saw that Draco was holding out a piece of folded parchment. He took it and read.

_Potter,_

_Meet be behind the greenhouses at ten Thursday evening._

_-DM_

When he'd finished reading it, Harry set the letter on his palm and raised his wand to it. "_Incendio_". With a small pile of ash resting on his palm, he raised it to his mouth and blew it into Draco's face.

"Potter! What the hell was that for!"

"I'll be there." He turned and walked away.


	9. Repression and Request

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Ron and Draco were partnered for a project; Narcissa was kidnapped; Harry extended an invitation to Draco, which he burned; Things got a little friendly in Blaise and Harry's lesson; and Draco re-invited Harry to meet with him the following evening.

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Ok, I know I promised two chapters this update but the end of this one has a twist and I can't help but leave you all in suspense while I work with the beta on a few more. Also, big plot developments in chapter nine so I hope you won't be disappointed. Oh, and the stuff in potions class might seem pointless but, trust me, it's not. I think that's it...oh, and yes Hanjuuluver, yaoi is MUCH sexier than slash. XD Happy reading

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**Chapter Nine: Repression and Request**

Thursday morning was the Gryffindor's first NEWT potions class. Originally, it had been scheduled for Monday, but for whatever reason Tonks hadn't been able to come that day. Harry thought it might have something to do with the order. Hermione had at first complained, but then she had a meeting with McGonagall who told her she'd be taking more than four classes this year, so she stopped. Ron and Hermione had been asleep when Harry had reached the common room the previous evening, so instead of eating before class, he was helping Ron plan a party.

"So, Dumbledore is putting all the prefects to work on house unity projects?"

"Right."

"And you and Malfoy are partners?"

"Right."

"And you two came up with a _party_?"

"Right. Well, I came up with it."

"Ok, well they can't be during the week, that would be really dull."

"And they can't be in the evenings on Saturdays or Sundays because the defense meetings are then."

"Well…not necessarily. Hermione's in charge of who comes to the meetings, right? So you and her can just cross-reference and make sure you don't both have someone scheduled. Penelope is really uptight about getting things done quickly, so Hermione will have her list every Tuesday and you can read over it and schedule other people. Besides, those meetings are for fourth year and up only. You shouldn't have any troubles with first, second, or third years."

"Right, I guess I'll need to talk to Hermione then?"

"Sorry I couldn't help more, mate."

"No, you did; I forgot about 'mione being in charge of the roster. So…what's up with this Penelope girl? I've never even heard of her."

"Neither have I. I thought it was a little odd, but then the other day Luna saw me talking with her in the entrance hall and she addressed us both. And you know Luna, if she doesn't know you she'll just ignore you."

"Right. _But_, Luna also says hello to random inanimate objects, so maybe she just thought Penelope was an exotic plant or something."

"Maybe…but she used her name. That would be a bit of a stretch, assuming that to be a coincidence."

"Huh…I dunno then. Maybe she was really ugly last year and we just didn't notice her?"

"Well that's fantastic, Ron; _just fantastic!_" They turned and saw Hermione walking up behind them. "So what, if a girl's ugly you'll just ignore her? And if she's attractive, you'll be all over her?"

"I think 'all over' is a bit strong."

"Fleur! Lavender! Cho!"

"You liked Cho?" Harry asked, amused by the way Ron's hair clashed with his flushed cheeks.

"Alright! Enough, Hermione, it was just a joke."

"Well I didn't think it was very funny. Did you, Harry?"

They both looked at him. "Er…we'll be late to potions if we don't hurry." He moved past them so that they couldn't press the subject.

By the time Tonks had finally arrived, the entire class was seated with cauldrons at the ready. Hermione had just started to taunt Harry about not having a "cheater's book this year", when she entered, pink-haired and slightly flustered. "Sorry, class, bit of trouble getting here. New security measures, it's asinine." As she moved passed them to the front of the class, there were some giggles about her hair. She turned around, "What, you don't like it?" For a moment her face screwed up in a rather unattractive pose, which earned her more giggles, until her hair turned black and grew in curls down passed her shoulders. "Right then, shall we get started?" She winked at Harry, who smiled back.

"Today's lesson won't come from your book; not really anyway. Today we start our study of Basic Alchemy. Now, can anyone explain the difference between alchemy and potion brewing?" Hermione raised her hand. "Alright, Hermione."

"Potion brewing is combining materials to make potions, and alchemy is combining potions to make new potions."

"Right, ten to Gryffindor then. The thing you need to know with Alchemy is, it's not just pouring two potions together. There are four parts to an alchemic potion: first potion, second potion, assist ingredients, and preliminary ingredients; not in that order. The preliminary ingredients are those that we start with; they ensure that when both potions are added we won't have any negative side effects. Then we add the potions; they don't react but they don't do anything either. That's where the assist ingredients come in; they help to blend the potions so that they work together.

"Now, Alchemy requires both a great deal of calculation and a familiarity with a variety of potion ingredients. To sort of get the hang of it, we're going to start with something extremely simple. We'll be combining a headache potion with a fever potion to make the Pepperup Potion. So," Tonks moved to the board and flicked her wand at it so that a piece of chalk flew up to attention. "Can anyone tell me the main ingredients for our two potions? The Freolah Potion and the Mintweed Potion?"

Dean raised his hand and Tonks nodded to him. "Well the Freolah has Boris Seed to calm nerves…and Jasmine and Dried Rummis for the headache." The chalk scribbled out the ingredients Dean listed.

"Very good. Ten points to Gryffindor. Anyone know what's in the Mintweed?"

Harry raised his hand. "Mint?"

"Yes, and…?"

Hermione muttered in a whisper, "Not so easy when you don't have all the answers, is it?"

He whispered back, "you know, you get mean when you're jealous."

"Harry, do you know what they are?" Tonks asked again.

"Er…"

"Mint, French Hay, and Kelp Sprigs professor."

"Very good, Hermione, take another ten."

Harry scowled at her.

By the end of the class only two people had succeeded in making the Pepperup Potion; Hermione, and Harry. Hermione accused Harry of using another "cheat book", but he pointed out that he'd had years of muggle schooling before coming to Hogwarts and that the calculations were second nature. Ron had actually come close before he added too much of their assist ingredient, Urith Powder, and allowed the two potions to blend so much that they reacted with one another, causing a minor explosion. Harry and Hermione were awarded fifteen points each and exemption from that night's homework; one foot of parchment on the proper scaling of assist ingredients.

At the end of the class, when the others had left and Tonks had changed her hair back to pink, the three approached her. "So…what did you think? Did I do alright?"

"Yeah, you did really well," Harry said.

"Yeah," added Ron, "I'm kind of surprised. I was _sure_ you were going to knock something over or something."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes but Tonks merely smiled. "So was I; that's why I took this." She withdrew a small vial, half full of a gold colored potion.

"Felix Felicis," Hermione said, knowingly.

"Right. I was really nervous and then I remembered Ginny telling me about how you all took it before the fight with the Death Eaters last June, so I thought I'd give it a whirl. So far, I'm pretty impressed. Not only have I not bumped anything over, but I've also gotten Remus to agree to do this thing he does where he….yeah, I'll tell you when you're older."

"We're seventeen!"

She ignored them. "The potion must be wearing off if that was about to slip out. I'd better go, guys. I have something to do before it wears off entirely."

"Something to do with Remus?"

"No, Umbridge."

"Umbridge?"

"Yeah, she's on this thing about how animagus and metamorphmagus aren't as good as 'normal people' because we aren't fully human or something. Anyway, I want to tell her off but I always get tongue tied when I try. So, here's hoping little Felix can give me a hand, huh?"

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The rest of Harry's day went by so fast he'd barely had time to register it. He'd left the potions dungeon, helped Ron and Hermione plan a few meetings each over their break, attended his defense lesson, studied with Hermione, and eaten dinner with Ron. Before he knew it, he was sneaking out of the common room under his invisibility cloak, wondering briefly how Draco would manage to get out without one. When he reached the greenhouse, he took it off.

There was a faint glow coming from inside greenhouse Harry knew to be Professor Sprout working on some of her more nocturnal plants. The entire building was windows, to better allow the sunlight to pass through, but she'd drawn the curtains so that the only thing that came through was a warm light just bright enough for Harry to scrutinize his reflection in the window.

He'd picked out a pair of his favorite non-denim jeans and a black shirt; at first he'd thought white but then that would be easy to see. As he looked at the way the smooth fabric of the shirt hinted at the muscles underneath, he wondered why he was worried about his appearance at all. How well dressed was one supposed to be when giving an apology?

"So, you really are that vain then, Potter?"

Harry spun and saw Draco approaching him, still wearing what he'd worn that day minus the robes. "No, I'm trying to see how my Herbology project is doing."

"Potter, you don't take Herbology."

"How did you know?"

"I didn't, but I do now." He smirked and Harry turned so that he was facing him properly. "So, Potter, why did—" He stopped, listening. Harry heard it too, the sound of the greenhouse door opening on the other side, and then someone speaking.

"Evenin', Professor Sprout. What are you doin' out so late?"

"Oh, hello Hagrid. I was just checking on some of my Pridanias!"

"Oh, right. Well I 'ad a question for you. I was wonderin' if—"

"Ugh, if we wait for them to finish we might be here all night. Come on, Potter, let's find somewhere else."

"Why don't we just go into the forest?"

Malfoy paled a little. "Out of bounds, Potter."

"You're just scared."

He sighed. "Fine! Let's go in the sodding forest. But not too far in; scared or not, going in here at night without knowing where we are is just stupid."

Harry followed Draco until his faint outline was barely visible. "Ok, I think this is far enough. I can't even see the greenhouse anymore."

"Now who's scared?"

Harry said nothing.

"So, now that we won't be interrupted. Why did you ask me out here, Potter?"

"You asked me, remember?"

"Yes, this time. But I invited you after you invited me because I was curious, what's your reason?"

"Well, I wanted to apologize."

Harry didn't need to see Draco's face to know he was surprised. "Apologize for what?"

"For pushing you off the other day. You know, after you…well, I just shouldn't have done it. I'm sorry."

"Well…I guess I'm sorry for kissing you. I don't know why I did it."

"It wasn't because I'm good looking?" His tone was almost defensive.

"Just because I'm queer, it doesn't mean I have to have a crush on every guy I see, Potter."

"You are, then?"

"What?"

"Queer?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Well, Potter, you have sex with both and see which you like."

"So it's just about sex then?"

"No!" He was defensive; maybe even a little hurt. "No, it's not just sex."

"So you love guys too?" Harry spoke with a stiffness that conveyed his uneasiness. Draco, however, responded with an openness that Harry envied.

"That would be the 'not sex' part, Potter."

"I kind of find it hard imagining you loving anyone, guy or girl."

"That's not fair! I loved my mo—" He had been about to say "I loved my mother", but he stopped. This conversation was getting far too personal.

There was a long silence before Harry spoke. "Draco I…I'm sorry about your mother."

For the first time in his life, Draco did not reject the sympathy. It was nice, comforting even, to know that someone cared enough to worry over him. His mother had, once, but that was years ago. So he did not reject Harry's sentiment, but welcomed it and allowed it to warm him just slightly in the cold of the forest.

"Thank you…Harry." The soft weakness in his voice, almost a tone of pleading, seemed to make Harry's heart burn in his chest. His cheeks flushed and his heart beat faster as memories bloomed like flowers; _Oliver Wood undressing in the changing rooms, Cedric Diggory's toned frame jogging before him_. "It…means something to me…." _Victor Krum standing in his swim shorts awaiting the start of the second task; the younger wizard behind the counter at Zonko's Joke Shop. _"…that you would…." As he remembered seeing Bill Weasley remove his shirt, his heart threatened to burst out of his chest. Before he knew what he was doing, he lunged at Draco.

Their lips pressed together something fierce; it wasn't slow and sensual, it was rough and forced. It was a kiss filled with Harry's repressed urges, Draco's repressed feelings for Harry, and a million other things left unsaid that burst forth in an instant of extemporized passion. It took Draco a few moments to react but when he did, Harry felt cold hands moving under his shirt and over his back. He mimicked Draco's movements, allowing his fingers to caress the silky smooth skin that he had spent the last six years detesting.

The slight anger spurred his eagerness and he clenched at Draco's back so that his fingernails dug in a little. As their mouths separated, Harry gasped and Draco let out a strained moan that was muffled when Harry dove in for more. They pulled each other closer, neither one wanting the moment to end, but both of them realizing that it was about to. They stopped kissing, Harry tasting the slight blood drawn from their first collision and Draco panting at having lost his breath for the last few seconds; but still they held each other.

It was Draco who spoke first as they separated, letting an uncomfortable cold replace the warmth they'd created. "So, you are then?"

"What?"

"Queer?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"How do you know?"

Harry leaned in for a quick kiss. "Just a feeling."

"I don't love you, Harry."

"I don't love you either."

"I don't even really like you."

"I don't like you either."

"But I guess we can build to that?"

"I guess we can."

"I don't want a public boyfriend."

"I don't either."

"I want to see you again."

"I want to see you too."

"I think you should leave first. I'm a prefect, if I'm caught it won't be a big deal."

"Will you be alright back here by yourself?"

"I'm a queer, not a woman. I'll be fine."

"Right. Er…goodnight then."

"Goodnight." As Harry approached the edge of the forest, Draco saw the light outline his features before he pulled on a cloak and disappeared into the night.

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Even as Draco spoke, he could feel the familiar presence announcing itself. "I don't want a public boyfriend." The sensation gripped him around the middle. "I want to see you again." Keeping his voice even became hard work. "I think you should leave first." He fought hard to keep the urgency out of his voice, and it wasn't until Harry had left that the feeling of dread abate somewhat.

"How long were you watching?"

"Only for the last few moments. Quite the lovely sentiment, Draco; and your mother insists that she hasn't influenced you." Draco watched as a man faded into view, skin changing from the colors of the forest to the regal pale so common of their family. His platinum hair was, like Draco's, without curl and it flowed passed his shoulders, outlining his face and making the sharp features more severe. His robes, though a bit old, were still obviously bought at an exorbitant price.

"What are you doing here, father?"

"Watching my son turn form heir to blood traitor in the arms of the enemy. I say, Draco, if you were going to betray this family and our blood, you might have at least picked someone more attractive."

"I'm leaving." He turned to go.

"No, you're staying to hear what I have to say."

"That's an empty threat; they destroyed your wand when you entered Azkaban."

"You and I both know that I don't need a wand to perform magic."

"What do you want?"

"Only to deliver something I believe was intended for you." He pulled a slightly crumpled piece of parchment from the inner folds of his robe. "It's the letter the Ministry confiscated from our manor; I trust you still read the papers. Fortunately I have a few contacts within the Department for Magical Law Enforcement that remain loyal."

Draco took the parchment and read.

_Draco,_

_No matter what happens, know that I love you. I'm sorry that, in the end, I wasn't strong enough to help you. But I love you, Draco. And I always will._

_Mother_

"It's a shame; such talent for writing from the heart and yet she is to be put to death. Truly a tragedy."

Draco pocketed the letter. "What do you want me to do?"


	10. The Walls Came Tumbling Down

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **The Gryffindor's had a potions lesson with Tonks, who taught them about the difference between potion brewing and alchemy; Harry and Draco had a rather risqué encounter in the woods near the greenhouses; and finally, Lucius Malfoy showed up with a mysterious request.

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A/N: Ok, here it is, the aftermath of Harry and Draco's little woodsy experimentation session. That pesky Lucius is up to something I tell you...but I wouldn't go making assumptions on what he asked Draco to do. I PROMISE you'll all be surprised. But anyway, that's for another chapter. Um...there was something else...oh, right. I KNOW Tonks isn't a pureblood, especially now that like five of you have posted telling me so. It was a mistake, but there really isn't much plot around that mistake so I'm going to pull a lazy move and just leave it the way it is. But I do know, so no more comments about it please :)

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**Chapter Ten: The Walls Came Tumbling Down**

When Harry woke Friday it was the second time in a very short while that he'd done so with a smile on his face; and this time, he knew _exactly _why it was there. After leaving Draco the previous evening he hadn't gone directly back to his dormitory. Instead, he took the long way around, walking beside the lake and along the forest so that he passed Hagrid's hut and the greenhouses once more before finally entering the castle and sneaking back up to the seventh floor. And not once during his long walk did his mind leave Draco.

Harry had been stunned at how normal Draco made everything seem; and if anything was normal, it certainly wasn't snogging your ex-rival in the forbidden forest. How was he so calm all the time? Normally Harry found it infuriating; tonight, however, it was welcome. He thought back to their kiss; such a simple action and yet the consequences would affect him greatly. It wasn't like their first kiss; that one had been quick, he'd been startled. Before it had a chance to mean anything they had separated. This time, however, the kiss was like wave after wave of cleansing water, washing away everything Harry had thought he'd known. When they had separated Harry had felt naked and exposed; but Draco didn't laugh, he was calm and Harry was glad to know that at least _some_ things wouldn't change.

As he walked along side the lake, watching the shapes made by the giant squid's tentacles and their reflections on the water, he realized how fitting all of it seemed. Him, Draco; him and any boy really. He thought back to how awkward he'd been with Cho and Ginny and how uncomfortable their intimacy had been. But with Draco…things just seemed to fit in place. And who was he to question it?

"Oi, you're going to be late if you don't get up, mate. Hermione's already been down to breakfast and back and she's threatening to barge in here."

Ron's words pulled Harry back to Friday morning and he stood to get dressed. When he came down, he saw that Hermione and Ron were the only two in the common room. They did not notice him, however, even as he came to stand right next to them.

"Look, all I'm saying is, we should spend more _time_ together!"

"I've already told you, I spend as much time with you as I can! I've got responsibilities, Ron; to the Order, to my schoolwork, and now to the D.A. meetings!"

"Yeah, I've got a lot to be getting on with too but I still make time! Honestly, at this point, I think your books know you better than I do!"

"Uh…guys?"

Ron looked startled and Hermione actually jumped. "Oh, Harry…we didn't see you. Well um…I brought you toast from breakfast." She handed him a folded napkin that warmed his hand as he took it. "We had better get going. We've got double potions and Tonks has been getting better about arriving on time."

When they had reached the third floor, Ron realized he'd forgotten his essay for potions; having no other choice, he ran back up to get it. Hermione sighed with relief.

"What was going on with you two this morning?" Harry asked as Hermione rubbed her temples in frustration.

"Oh, Ron's upset because I've been studying so much lately."

"Hermione, it's the first week of school, how could you have that much to do?"

"Well I'm taking eight classes, Harry! And I keep getting requests from Order members. If it's not Kingsley wanting to know a counterjinx to some rare spell it's Mr. Weasley asking about the intricate details of muggle weaponry. _And,_ on top of all that, I've got to deal with that dreadful Penelope."

"You don't like her?"

"No, and she doesn't like me. She likes you though…"

"What!"

"Come on, Harry; you're not the most intuitive person in the world when it comes to these things but surely you must have noticed _some_ of the signs?"

"Wait, what? What signs?"

"Well, she's always looking at you when you talk but whenever anyone else talks she just sort of looks down like she's thinking or something. And she insisted on you meeting with her, _privately_, before each of our meetings so that you can tell her what we'll be teaching. Now tell me, Harry; why would she need to know a day early?"

"I don't know, why?"

"She wouldn't! She just wants to spend time with you."

A sick embarrassment rose in Harry and he was glad that Hermione was too focused on getting to class to notice his flushed cheeks. "Since when did you become a relationship guru? I mean, yeah Victor and now Ron, but still…"

"It's a girl thing, I suppose; at least that's what Ginny says. When are you two getting back together anyway?"

"So why _don't _you make time to spend with Ron?"

"Oh, no. No changing the subject, Harry."

"Change it? That was the subject in the first place!"

"Fine. It's not really that I'm not spending time with Ron, he's just worried over…well, what happened to you and Ginny. He seems to think that the lack of contact was the only real reason you two broke up and I guess he's afraid it will happen with us."

"You're not?"

"I don't know, Harry. I like Ron, I really do…I just don't know if he really likes me that much. I mean he likes me, sure, but does he _really_ like me. Does he like me like you liked Cho?"

"I don't think I ever really liked Cho. She's not my type." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, bringing on a second wave of embarrassment this time coupled with fear.

"Oh please, Harry; you were head over heels. I know it didn't work out, but don't deny that you ever had feelings for her. And besides, if she's not your type who is? You dated Cho who plays Quiditch, is easy to talk to, and who has fair skin and dark hair; you took Pavarti to the Yule Ball who is a typical teenage girl with dark brown hair and a remarkable physique; and you dated Ginny, who also plays Quiditch, has been your friend for years, and has red hair and freckles. So if you don't like red hair, black hair, brown hair, freckles, fair skin, tanned skin, big breasts, small breasts, sporty girls, social girls, or friendly girls…what _do_ you like, Harry?"

"Did you just say Pavarti has big breasts?"

"Answer the question."

Harry wasn't sure what to say; he could only hope that Hermione didn't draw the correct conclusion which, at least to him, seemed painfully obvious. "I don't know, Hermione, but I asked you a question first. Do you like Ron?"

"I told you, I don't think he thinks of me in that way really and I—"

"Not what he thinks of you, Hermione; what you think of him."

"Well…yes, I supposed I do like him."

"Like that?"

"Like that."

"Then maybe you should do something about it, take the initiative."

"No…I need to know that Ron cares about me. I need him to take the initiative. Otherwise, well…well, here we are." She hurried inside the potions dungeon before Harry could protest. _Just when it was getting good_, he thought.

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The first D.A. meeting was scheduled for that Saturday evening at eight o'clock, and as the hour grew closer Harry found himself getting more and more excited about his upcoming lesson. In the morning he'd gone flying around the pitch with Ron which, mercifully, was still allowed. Then later, after a quick lunch, Ron had gone to find Hermione to work out final details on invitations to the party. Harry thought it was a pretty nice coincidence that Ron and Hermione both had such similar jobs…but then, maybe Dumbledore had planned it that way. He seemed to work in mysterious ways.

Harry had been lifted when he spoke with the headmaster before Draco's trial, having got the impression that their meetings would become more frequent. That was, however, the last time Harry had spoken with the headmaster personally. Then again, it was only a week into school, and it wasn't as if Harry would have anything to say in any case.

He'd had yet to see Draco as well; in fact, if he didn't know any better, he'd think Draco was avoiding him. True, they had never hung out before, but they saw a lot of each other just in the hallways or even in class. This year Harry didn't have classes with Draco, so hallways and meals were all he got. He wondered vaguely, as he made his way down to classroom twelve, if Draco was wondering if Harry was avoiding _him_.

When he got to the classroom he found Hermione and Lavender waiting there for him. Neither of them were speaking and Harry was sure this couldn't be a good sign.

"Harry!" Lavender started, walking towards him. "Ok, I've still got to go to Ernie's classroom so I'll make this quick. There really wasn't a lot of preparing to do for this class, but Penelope and I brought a lot of pillows to land on when they're practicing the _Stupefy_ charm." She pointed to a towering pile of multicolored pillows she'd evidentially stacked in the corner. "And we also created invisible wall charms for practicing the disarming jinx. The spaces are marked on the floor, they should come out with a good _Scourgify_, and they should only work on wands. So as long as a person is holding a wand, it will go through. But if you try tossing your wand or if it gets expelled, it'll hit the wall. Penelope figured it wouldn't be good to have wands flying everywhere unattended."

"Right, well it sounds like you've covered it then," Harry said, suppressing a laugh as he caught Hermione miming Lavender rather crudely behind her back.

"Ok, well I've got to go see Ernie and then get to my classroom so I'll be seeing you!" She walked quickly to the door.

"Good luck!"

"Yeah, you too!" She said, just as the door closed behind her and she was gone.

"Alright, Harry, I'm actually in kind of a hurry too so read over this list of people and make sure everything's alright."

"Ok…not really sure why I'd need to approve this but if you insist…" He took the list and scanned it over, taking only a few minutes to discover why Hermione was wearing a look of apprehension. "Draco Malfoy!" His tone was not one of protest, but thankfully Hermione seemed to think it was.

"I know, but it wasn't really my choice. Dumbledore seemed to feel that you were the only one of us that could teach Draco without being biased. And also, he said you would be the one most likely to stop any of the others who tried to pick on him."

Harry did his best to sound indignant. "So what, I'm his babysitter for the evening."

"Yes," said Hermione, moving towards the door, "and good luck. If it were me, I'd probably jinx him. You heard about him making a first year cry the other day, right? Called her a mudblood…anyway, I've got to go. Good luck, Harry."

"Yeah, you too…" he said, trying to cope with the fact that he was feeling defensive of _Draco_ bleeding Malfoy. He checked his watch; five minutes until class would start. This was going to be a long evening.

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"Someone was out late last night."

"Ugh…Blaise, what time is it?"

"Nearly three in the afternoon, Draco; don't you think it's about time to get up?"

Draco sat bolt upright. "Three in the afternoon! And I've been sleeping this whole time!"

"I assumed as much…I haven't been in here all day but I haven't seen you out and about."

"'_Out and about',_ Blaise? What the hell is that? The sorting hat should have put you in Gryffindor."

"Don't I wish."

"What?" Draco was now fully awake, staring with mouth agape at the lean Italian who'd draped himself over his own bed across the room. "Did you seriously just say that?"

"Maybe not…but I wouldn't complain about having to share a dorm with Potter."

Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing; Blaise wanted to be in Gryffindor so he could share a room with Harry? He knew the Italian was bi, but having a crush on Harry Potter was a bit much. Draco registered the hypocrisy in his thoughts but it didn't concern him; he didn't have a _crush_ on Harry, it was just a casual thing. "You and Potter? Never going to happen, Blaise. And besides, aren't you with Pansy?"

"Yeah but I'm getting bored of girls…plus all Pansy wants to talk about lately is her dying grandmother, she's so selfish."

"See that right there is reason enough to put you in Slytherin; you're a cold hearted bastard."

"No matter. Maybe that's Harry's type…he liked that Chang girl and she was a proper bitch."

"Yes, but she was also a girl, Blaise." Draco fought to keep the jealousy out of his mind, surprised at how territorial one kiss could make him.

"Oh please, Draco; everyone is bi for the right price."

Jealously forgotten, Draco laughed. "You're seriously going to try and _buy_ Harry Potter? He's rich, Blaise; richer than you."

"I said price, not money. It's clear he has some serious mommy-daddy issues, I'll just have to help him through that." A wry grin spread over his face and Draco fired up immediately.

"You're an ass, Zabinni. Exploiting someone's emotional issues to get them into bed?"

"That doesn't make me an ass, Draco, it makes me a Slytherin. Besides, what do you care? Since when do you talk about other people's feelings? Especially when 'other people' includes Harry Potter. You hate him!"

"He got me off, Blaise. It's hard to hate someone after that, even if it is Harry Potter."

"He got you off!"

"Mind out of the gutter, Zabinni, I was talking about my trial."

"Oh," Blaise seemed almost disappointed. "Well, hopefully he'll get me off soon too."

Before Draco knew what he was doing, his wand was out and pointed at Blaise, who was hoisted into the air by his ankles so fast he didn't even have time to counter. "What the hell, Draco, put me down! What's your problem?"

Draco composed himself as he stood, pulling some clothing out of his wardrobe before turning to Blaise. "I've done nothing good for Slytherin reputations, Blaise; you sleeping around with the golden boy isn't going to help that. Now hang here and think about that while I shower." He left with a smirk, listening with a vindictive pleasure as Blaise yelled at him from the air.

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As Draco walked back from the kitchens, having gone there to get his late lunch, a first year scurried up to him with a note held in an outstretched hand. It fluttered open and closed as the boy ran towards him, making it look like a bird trying to get away. "Draco! Are you Draco?"

"No, I'm not; leave me alone."

"Oh…" the boy looked crestfallen but Draco kept walking. The first year scrambled along side him again, having to jog-walk awkwardly to keep up with Draco's long strides. "Because you look like Draco, and I'm supposed to give him this. I don't know where he is, though; the girl who gave it to me told me he looked like you look and I just don't know if—"

"Oh enough!" Draco turned on the boy. "Yes, fine, I'm Draco. What is it that you want?"

The first year looked as if he might cry. "Just to give you this." He held out the letter and Draco snatched it from him with such force that the first year recoiled his hand so fast he nearly fell backwards.

"What's it for?"

"A meeting tonight, I think."

"I told Weasley not to schedule me for any damn party! That filthy red-head can't do anything right!"

"No, not a party, a meeting."

Draco scowled at the correction and the boy cowered. Of course; it wasn't a party it was one of those Defense meetings. God save him if he got Blaise after what he pulled that afternoon… "Is that all?"

"Y—yes."

"Then tell me; why are you still standing here?" The first year didn't need telling twice; as Draco read over the note, he could hear the awkward scrambling boy making his way back up stairs. As he reached the end of the note, his jaw dropped and his cheeks flushed and he was infinitely grateful that no one was around to see it. Fantastic; he was in a class with Harry. "Well," he said, pocketing the note and continuing to eat the sandwich the house elves had made him, "at least this won't be awkward."

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As people came and entered, standing around or picking up one of the pillows to sit on, Harry greeted them each a quick nod and a smile. He was glad that, even though he knew some of them by face, he wasn't on a first name basis with any of them and therefore wasn't obliged to speak with them. _Maybe Draco didn't come? Maybe he found out that I was going to be his teacher and he decided he'd rather skive it off_. Just as this horrifying thought occurred to him, Draco came in the room.

The effect was immediate. All conversations quieted instantly as every single head turned in Draco's direction. Draco, however, seemed to neither notice nor care; he simply came in and stood near a wall, picking a book up off of a nearby shelf to read. Not once did he look at Harry. _Well, he did say he didn't want this public. And neither do I…so maybe this is best._

"Ok," Harry said finally, breaking the uncomfortable silence that only Draco could ignore. "I think we're all here…so why don't we get started?" They all turned their attention to him, some occasionally glaring at Draco, who had put the book down to look at Harry. "Alright, well we're supposed to do an introduction but I really don't think we need one. I'm Harry, and I'm going to be teaching you some defensive spells to better equip you if you ever uh…you know, get into it with some death eaters or something." He saw Draco roll his eyes; but also there was a hint of a smile, which made it alright.

"Ok, so we'll be starting with the basics; and I mean _basic_. Today we'll be learning, or in some cases practicing, disarming and stunning spells. Ok er…can anyone tell me why these spells are so important?"

A girl whom Harry did not know raised her hand. "Yes er…"

"Valerie. It's because the two most important things a wizard has in a duel are his wits and his wand; without those, he's helpless."

"Right, and that's exactly where you want your target to be: helpless. We'll start with the disarming charm. The incantation is _Expelliarmus_, and you just want to sort of jab your wand towards your opponent as you say it. Can I get a volunteer?"

Valarie stepped forward. Harry raised his want and shouted "_Expelliarmus"_ and Valarie's wand went flying to the other end of the room. Before it could land, he called out a summoning charm and brought it back, handing it to her and thanking her as she rejoined the crowd. "So does anyone have any questions?" He used looking for questions as an excuse to look at Draco who, he was surprised to see, was staring right at him. "Right then, everyone pair up and stand in these boxes drawn on the ground here." Not surprisingly, Draco was left alone. "Right, Draco, I guess you'll be with me then."

Harry explained about the invisible wall charms on the boxes, and also that he'd added a silencing charm to them. "It's probably best to have noises low when we're trying to practice. In a real situation, you wouldn't have that option, but we're just practicing today."

Harry watched for a few moments as people flung incantations at their opponents whose wands went flying until they hit their invisible boxes. Satisfied that everyone was getting on alright, he stepped into his own box.

"Whatever you're going to say, Potter, make sure it's with a scowl. We're supposed to hate each other." Draco said, looking snide and cocky as ever.

"Back to 'Potter'? You had your tongue in my mouth, Draco, you think you could call me 'Harry'?"

"Fine, Harry."

"Draco, we've already established that there's _something_ between us, even if it's not a relationship. There's no use pretending you don't want to see me."

"I _don't_ want to see you! Not when you're all emotional and talking about relationships and…well, when you're like what you're like right now."

Harry was staring to get angry. Sure, it wasn't public, he understood that; but why did they have to pretend they didn't like each other? "No one can hear us, Draco; why are you being such a prat?"

"Potter if you're expecting me to be your loving wife you can forget it! I don't want a relationship!"

"Then what _do_ you want?"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Draco waited until Harry's wand hit the ground before continuing. "I want you to pick up your wand and disarm me, Potter."

"It's Harry."

"_Potter_," he reinforced through clenched teeth. Harry picked up his wand and sent a stupefy soaring towards Malfoy with such force it knocked him out of their protective box. The classmates laughed though their laughs were concealed and Harry joined them. He regretted it immediately, fearing that he might have hurt Draco and also that he was supposed to set a good example; but when Draco finally did look up after Harry reversed the spell he didn't look hurt. Harry knew that look; it was the same one he received every time he walked into his Aunt's kitchen with dirt on his shoes; Draco was _furious_.

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It was nearly eleven by the time Harry had finished for the night. The class had ended somewhere around nine and he'd dismissed them all, but some of them wanted to stay back for a little extra practice. Draco was among the first out the door without so much as a glance in Harry's direction. Harry didn't even feel a small urge to run after him; at this point, he was about as mad as Draco as Draco was with him. Why did he have to be such a prat? _We kissed…for real this time. And it was nice…why is he so cold about it all?_

It might have made sense if Draco had had that reaction just after their kiss, but he hadn't. That night he was a calm, collected, level-minded Draco. Now he was…something else. It was almost as if he'd reverted back to his old self…using nicknames and snide comments to enforce his callousness. As Harry stacked the pillows in their corner once more, he wondered what he'd done to deserve this. He hadn't been rude to Draco…in fact, he hadn't even spoken to him since their clandestine encounter on the outskirts of the woods. _Am I really that bad of a kisser?_ _Is that what this is all about?_

He shoved the thoughts out of his mind as he closed the door behind him, wishing not for the first time that he had a pensive to put all of these thoughts in. As he made his way towards Gryffindor tower he looked at his wristwatch which told him that it was eleven thirty. Good, the common room would be empty. He wasn't really up for talking with anyone tonight…

But as he walked into the common room he was disappointed. There_ were_ people in the common room. On the couch, bathed in a dim glow cast by the smoldering fire, were two people but had he not known better, Harry would have thought that it was _one_ person. But judging by the noises and the movements and the presence of four arms, he knew this wasn't so. As two of the arms moved up the back of the person in front, Harry noticed the red hair and knew who he was looking at.

"Honestly, you two, get a room."

Ron jumped so that he fell off the couch with a thud, looking horrified. Even in the dim light, Harry could tell he was white as a sheet. "Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Uh…I live here. Why are you so worried, it's not like I haven't seen you two kiss before…" But then he understood. Because when he looked to the couch, he didn't look to Hermione; he was looking at the smug façade of none other than Lavender Brown.


	11. La Fleur de Mort

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M (eventually)

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (others to come, but it would reveal some plot)

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard of HBP.

**Rehash: **Hermione confessed her skepticism on her and Ron's relationship to Harry; Blaise confessed his feelings for Harry to Draco, who was insanely jealous at the news; the first D.A. class went smoothly, but Harry and Draco fought when Draco was cold towards Harry; Harry walked in on Ron making out with Lavender Brown in the Gryffindor common room.

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A/N: Ok, so I pretty much love this chapter. Keep your eyes open, there's LOADS of foreshadowing crammed into these four thousand words. Oh, and I have something to confess. Um...I hate Ron, lol. In the books, I mean; I've just always thought he was a useless character (don't kill me!!) so in this fic he might seem a bit of a bastard...or maybe not...we'll just have to see. Happy reading! Oh, and the chapter title translates from French to: "The Death Flower".

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**Chapter Eleven: La Fleur de Mort**

Three weeks had gone by and still Harry hadn't managed to look Ron in the eye. For the first few days Ron had tried talking with him, offering meager explanations between classes or in spaces of time when Hermione wasn't with them. In a bitter irony, she'd consolidated her schedule to spend more time with Ron, so finding Harry on his own became increasingly difficult. Eventually Ron's humility faded and Harry would catch comments in passing like "_You're not perfect either, Harry" _and _"Don't look at me like you've had all these successful loving relationships, you're practically a hermit_." Harry ignored them.

But eventually all the comments and talking at all had quieted and they only spoke to one another when Hermione was around; although it was rare for all three of their schedules to be free so it was easy to keep Hermione thinking everything was alright. She was, but Harry wasn't. More than once the night he'd found them came back to him. Ron on his knees still on the floor begging Harry to keep it a secret while Lavender looked at him with something close to pity in her eyes. Harry hadn't said a word. As far as he could tell, Ron and Lavender weren't seeing one another; and he and Hermione seemed more affectionate than usual. The sight of them made him sick with guilt; he still wasn't sure whether or not he should tell Hermione.

"Harry, is something wrong?" Something in his expression must have reflected his thoughts because when he looked up at Hermione she seemed concerned. "You're kind of quiet…"

"Well, we're studying, isn't that to be expected?"

"I suppose…but still. Are you sure nothing's the matter?"

Harry couldn't bring himself to lie to her, not after what Ron had done. "Er…yeah, I guess something's up. I'm having relationship trouble…"

"Harry, first you have to be in a relationship, _then_ you can have trouble."

"I am in one! Sort of…"

"And you didn't tell me? What's wrong with you! Who is she?"

"Er…I don't think you'd know her. Anyway, we decided to keep it a secret…"

"Why?"

"Well because I'm in the papers a lot and I wouldn't want her dragged into it." Hermione looked unconvinced but Harry trudged on. "Anyway, er…we had a fight and we haven't spoken for like…three weeks now."

"Well when you see her is she cold towards you?"

"I haven't even really seen her! I mean a few times, you know in passing, but not really. She doesn't even acknowledge me."

Hermione looked sympathetic. "I know what you mean, but trust me it's a phase. Public affection takes a while to work into, but once you have it it's wonderful. Just look at me and Ron."

Harry ignored the twist of guilt. "Yeah, er…right. It's just that I know we said it was going to be secret, but she was really cold towards me when we last spoke a few weeks ago and I got upset and now she won't even look at me!"

"I don't know, Harry; this whole thing seems a little off. Having a closeted relationship makes things tricky, you know?" As she spoke, she didn't look away from him or make any expression. She just stared and waited for him to respond.

Harry fought hard not to look suspicious, but he knew better than to think he was doing a good job of it. It was one of his weaknesses, his face was practically transparent. A few seconds went by as Harry's heart beat loudly on his sleeve before he said, "I guess…do you think I should break it off?"

Still she held his gaze. "I think you should do what makes you happy, Harry." She put a hand on his forearm. "_Whatever_ that entails."

"Hermione I'm not sure what you—"

"Hey, Harry, can I ask you a favor?"

The sudden question took him aback. "Er…sure Hermione, what is it?"

"Can you teach my class tonight?"

"I've already got one though."

"Right well I was thinking we could merge them together and you could teach both of them? I mean, if you want to. I don't want to put more on you, but I mean…yes, if you want to."

Harry smiled at Hermione's discomfort. "Sure, but why?"

Hermione beamed at him. "Well…Ron asked me out on a date. What's wrong? You don't look happy…"

"What? No, I am. That's great, Hermione. And yeah, I'll cover your class tonight."

"Thanks…but Harry you're really starting to worry me. What is _wrong_?"

"I can't really talk about it, Hermione."

"Is it because you're gay?"

He stopped and looked at her as she busied herself with packing her things, overcome with a rush of different feelings. He was afraid, relieved and surprised; angry and embarrassed and upset. When she ran out of things to pack and looked up to him once more, he could say nothing.

"I—" But no words came, so he stood and left the library.

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It was the most picturesque morning anyone could have wished for. The sun slipping in silently through the window as birds chirped and the occasional cloud soared by, intensifying the crisp blue of the otherwise clear sky. It was a little chilly in the room but the sun tried hard to warm it, playing specks of light across metal drawer handles and the shiny silver fringe that lined the edge of three sets of Slytherin sheets. Yes, the morning was perfect; and it was making Draco sick.

He looked at a bird that had landed on their window sill, a sill they shouldn't even have _had_; this magical window thing was starting to get really old, really fast. Is this what it was like to wake up in rGryffindor tower? To a blinding light and an array of over-eager wildlife? Draco wondered briefly how Slytherins managed to be the most surly of the houses when the others were subjected to this every morning; the digression was brief, however, and Draco returned to thoughts of Harry Potter. But he couldn't _just_ think of Harry Potter these days, could he? He thought of Harry and he was also thinking of his father, his mother, a sickening re-play of his dilemma the previous year. And on top of it all, every day he fought a growing guilt, an emotion he never thought he'd have to deal with.

But this wasn't the time for emotions; this was a time for cold indifference mixed with some dazzling wit. He was a Slytherin, wasn't he? Time to act like it. When his father had approached him in the forest after he and Harry had…well, after Lucius came to him, he knew his only option was to help him. His mother was the only thing he had left in this word, and far be it from him to sit by and watch that be taken away. But still, this situation could _not_ play out like the one last year. Draco knew without a doubt that if he ended back in courtroom ten, he would be leaving for his new home in Azkaban Prison.

Still, it wasn't as if he could go to Dumbledore. Well, he was sure he _could,_ but he wasn't quite ready to face the old man yet…the last thing he needed right now was the inevitable lecture he'd receive from the headmaster. Blaise and Pansy were off limits as well; they were already on thin ice with him as it was, how would they respond if he told them what his father had ordered him to do? The ministry would think Draco had gone double agent like Snape and wouldn't trust him; he might be able to talk to Snape if only his former potions master would reply to his letters. Truth was, the only person he could really talk to about all this was the one person who'd gotten him in this damn mess in the first place: Harry Potter. Harry Potter, his father, his mother, and a sickening replay of his dilemma in the previous year.

The roundabout logic infuriated Draco; he'd never had a problem to which he couldn't find a solution. He thought harder, willing the answer to come to him, as that pestilential bird chirped, louder it seemed, from the magic sill. He might be able to talk to Snape if he—CHIRP…there was a chance that Professor Lupin might listen to him if he—CHIRP. Maybe that cousin of his, Tonks or something, could—CHIRP.

Draco screamed his frustration and practically snapped his arm out of it's socket as he whipped out his wand, throwing an _Incendio_ at the loudmouth cardinal. The spell, as he would have figured if he'd taken the time to assess the situation, ricocheted back at him when it hit the glass. He ducked just in time, but behind him someone screamed. Draco spun, unaware that he wasn't alone in the room, to find Theodore Nott, wide-eyed and ducking with his hands above his head.

"Draco! What the hell was that for?"

"Calm down, Nott; it's not as if I aimed it for you." Draco rolled his eyes as he pocketed his wand.

"Not like you to be so impulsive," Nott sneered as he stood, regaining his composure.

"Not like you to be skulking around in corners unannounced. Hoping to get a glimpse of my big death-eater plan for year seven?"

Nott looked confused. "Er…no, actually I came to get a book out of my trunk. Try not to set me on fire in the process, alright Draco?" He huffed to his corner and opened his trunk, bending over it and digging through the horribly unorganized contents.

Draco was about to fire back another one-line quip when he realized that _this_ could be his someone to talk to. Sure, he and Nott weren't best friends, but he was talking to Draco which appeared to be a good sign. Granted, it had taken almost igniting his hair to get it to happen, but it had happened just the same. "I'm er…well, it's not you, Nott. It's these damn windows; if Sinistra doesn't take them down I'm going to do it myself."

As Nott rose, a copy of _Forensky's Guide to Karaplethian Herbology_ in his hand, he turned to face Draco. "I hear you, these things are really starting to get on my nerves."

"If I wake up because there's sun in my eyes one more time, I'm going to scream."

"I think you already did."

Draco smiled. "There's that witty Slytherin, I knew he was hiding in there somewhere." Dear god, he sounded like a teenage girl gushing over that week's _Witch Weekly_. More talk like this and Draco could expect to sprout breasts any day now. "Er…anyway, I was just going outside. I think the _actual_ outdoors might do me some good, I've been cooped up in this room for too long."

"Good, I'll come with; I was planning to study but I guess some practical application would do as well."

"You're not planning on doing anything to me, are you? Because I have to warn you, I don't sit still and play specimen for free."

"No, not you. Herbology." He raised the book in his hand for reference. "I have to get some Juju Root and there's some not far from the lake's edge. Come on, we can talk about how much you hate birds."

"Well, I do hate birds, but I doubt talking about that will occupy much time."

Nott headed towards the door. "Fine, we'll think of something else then."

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Ron walked quickly up a short flight of stairs to survey his work from above; when he saw it, he smiled. Everything seemed in its place. From the thin magic candles burning without dripping wax to the dinner set Ginny had helped him conjure up, the scene looked nothing short of enchanting. As he looked over across the lake, watching how the reflection of the stars moved slightly with the water, he thought that his troubles with Hermione would finally be over.

It had been three weeks since Harry had walked in on him and Lavender; three weeks and now he and Hermione were doing better than ever. Sure, he felt bad about kissing Lavender, but that was because Hermione was never around; and besides, it had been purely hormonal. He didn't love Lavender like he loved Hermione, and that made it ok; didn't it?

He shook the thoughts from his mind, reminding himself that tonight, this night right here, he was going to tell Hermione that he loved her. Ginny had thought he was doing this all to get Hermione to "loosen up"; he'd been unsuccessful in correcting her misconception. But that was fine, so long as Hermione didn't think that as well. Tonight wasn't about sex for Ron; it was about love. And those two things could be kept separate.

He rarely wore a watch and this evening was no exception, but he figured it was probably time to get back up to the kitchen. The house elves had said they'd take about thirty minutes on his food; if he hurried he could get their dinner and be back in time to surprise Hermione as she walked out on the terrace. With one last glance over everything and one last fleeting thought of thanks for Ginny who had come up with the idea, he rushed off to the kitchens.

There were no students in the halls which meant it must be later than he thought it was. _Great, Hermione will show up and I won't be there. _Very_ romantic, Ron_. He walked faster down the corridor, ignoring the suspicious stares of the portrait inhabitants.

"Ron!" He turned, flustered.

"Yes, what is it? I've got to….oh." It was Lavender.

"Slow down, what's the rush?"

"Look, Lavender, I can't talk right now. I've got this surprise dinner thing with Hermione and I—"

"Hermione?" Lavender looked offended. "You're still with her? So what, I'm just here so you can snog when she's not looking? I'm not that kind of girl, Ron!"

"I know, I never said you were, it's just…I love Hermione and I don't love you."

The words were callous but you'd never know it by Lavender's sly smile. "Come on, Won-Won." She stepped closer, tugging on the end of Ron's tie. He shuddered but wasn't sure if it was from her touch or the use of his less-than-preferred pet name. "What's she got that I don't?"

"I love her, that's all that matters."

"She doesn't even put out." Her voice was low and sultry; she tugged harder on Ron's tie and he gasped.

"We never had sex, Lavender. So I guess…it doesn't matter, right."

"You're right, we haven't had sex…not yet, anyway." She looked up to him, her warm brown eyes meeting his. Her hand moved to caress his cheek and he flushed. "Come on, Ron…you can't look me in the eye and tell me you don't want to love me." Her smile was gone, replaced with a false pout.

"I don't—"

Before he could finish, her lips had covered his, pressing him back against a tapestry of a bald, bookish man who muttered indignantly. Thoughts of Hermione and their romantic date fled Ron's mind, even as he fought to keep them there.

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Hermione looked over her reflection with the same keen eye she'd used a thousand times to sift spelling errors out of her papers. She looked _better_, there was no mistaking that; but she still wasn't sure if she looked good. Ginny had lent her some of the clothes Harry had bought for her. They were a little tight, but Ginny insisted that this was a good thing.

"Hermione stop, you look fantastic. Ron's going to ravish you on the spot."

Hermione spun with a horrified look on her face. "Are you saying this makes me look easy?"

"No! No, if anything it's hard-to-get. You look good, _trust me_."

"If you say so Ginny…" With one last glance at the red dress, she turned around.

"So how do you know tonight's going to be the night? And please, spare the intimate details, he _is_ my brother."

"Well…over the summer we really hadn't had a lot of time to spend together. But once we got back at school it's like all of it came pouring out." Hermione looked a little shy and her cheeks were competing to match her dress. "Anyway, we've started spending more time together…and then he asked me on a date. We can't go anywhere, of course, but still…the fact that he even took the time to find a place to be together…things are going better for us." She was beaming by the end of her sentence, all embarrassment forgotten.

"Well, I'm glad for you two. And this little treasure map thing was a great idea!" She picked up the parchment Ron had sent to Hermione. "And look, he wrote the instructions all messy like a little kid! How cute."

"Er…no, that's his regular handwriting."

"You're serious? I mean er…well, that's ok. It's still nice…I mean, drawing a map to a secluded location where you two will spend the night overlooking the lake. How _romantic_."

"I know! I wonder how he thought it up…"

Ginny's eyes shifted. "Er…yeah, I haven't the foggiest."

"Ginny, how do you know it'll be overlooking the lake?"

"Oh…er…well I mean look at the map. It's clear from the er…squiggly line here and the uh…I think this is a statue or something. Anyway, it's clear that you're going to be on the lake-view side of the castle."

"Well it's doubly romantic then. I should probably be going, right?"

"Yeah! You don't want to be late for all the really hot–" Hermione shot her a warning stare. "—food you'll be eating. Have fun!"

"Now you're sure I look ok?"

"Yes, you look fantastic!"

"Ok, wish me luck!"

"Good luck er…swallowing." Hermione turned around, mouth agape. "The _food_! Good luck swallowing the food….because you're just eating….strictly platonic…oh, whatever, just have fun. I'll see you later!"

Hermione shook her head and left.

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"_Ron, how wonderful!"_ No…too bubbly. _"Ron, this is magnificent!"_ No…that one sounded like she was announcing a circus act. _"Ron…it's amazing. Thank you so much."_ There it was; simple and precise, just as she was. She smiled and ran over the line a few more times in her head, just to be sure it sounded right. She looked at the map again; not the one that Ron had sent her, the one she'd drawn based off of his. She appreciated the effort, but Ron was no cartographer; it had taken her an hour to transcribe the map to where she could understand it.

As she passed a suit of copper armor, step four on the map, she wondered what had inspired Ron to take such a step. In the end though, she decided it was best not to question it. Her smile grew in anticipation as she approached the seventh and final step: take the first floor corridor down past the bay window with the stained glass and take a right through the double doors. Hermione had never been to this part of the castle; it was her understanding that it was rarely used anymore.

She rounded a corner, smile practically cleaving her face in two, and stopped dead in her tracks. Watching the display before her was similar to watching someone being eaten by a dragon; she wanted to look away but it was as if her eyes were magically drawn to the one thing she had wished she'd never see again. As Lavender pulled away from Ron, he looked almost smug; the expression wrenched at Hermione's heart strings and tears began trickling down her cheeks. She hiccupped and they both turned towards her; Ron looked mortified, Lavender looked ecstatic.

"Ron…how…?"

Ron said nothing; instead it was Lavender who spoke, just loud enough for Hermione to hear her. "Surprise."

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Hermione didn't stop running until she'd reached the girls lavatory on the second floor; home to Moaning Myrtle. She knew that if anyone passed by, her sobs would be mistaken for the teenage ghost's and she wouldn't be bothered. Myrtle was, thankfully, off haunting some other u-bend this evening and Hermione was alone to sob in peace.

Part way through a storm of heavy cries, however, she heard something that made her stop. At first she figured it was her own noises rebounding off the high ceilings, but when she heard it again, she knew it wasn't coming from inside the bathroom. It almost sounded as if…someone was screaming. A girl's voice, yelling at the top of her lungs, strangely muffled as if she were far away but at the same time right next to her.

Hermione sprang out of her stall, all thoughts of Ron and Lavender left behind to dry away with her tears, and wrenched open the door of the bathroom. But when she did she met only an empty hallway. The sound, however, had not stopped. She followed it up the corridor, but as she approached it, it seemed to go farther away.

She ran, eyes closed at some points to better pin-point the source of the noise; up stairs, down stairs, around and around through corridors, most of which she didn't recognize. As she ran, the girl's screams became more frantic and Hermione ran faster, willing her legs to move even as they burned in protest. As she rounded a final corner, the noise stopped completely.

She had been expecting to turn on to another long hallway, but this one was at most only twenty or thirty feet. At the end of the short corridor was a large oil panting of a flower. It was like nothing Hermione had ever seen; the petals were a deep violet and flashes of electric blue shot out of the small black round center. It was beautiful; so beautiful, in fact, that she could not look away. Her heart, still pounding in her chest from her run, beat harder and louder as all other sounds faded around her.

She took a step towards the painting and the floor beneath her seemed to shake as she did. Another step; another shake. She wasn't sure she could stop walking if she wanted to. Her feet kept her moving forward, with regular steps now, and her eyes wouldn't allow her to look away. Her heart beat faster; the silence around her became more complete. Her steps quickened, one to each heartbeat, until she was practically running at the painting. She thought that she might collide with the painting until her shoe caught on the thick carpet and she fell.

She stood, looking down at her dress and the mess she'd made on it, brushing it off with her hands, pushing back tears that threatened to return. Then she looked up. It happened in the briefest of moments. For a few seconds, the painting had been replaced with the agonized face of Lavender Brown. But it wasn't the smug Lavender Hermione had seen in the corridor. Her eye makeup was smeared, her hair was damp with a dark liquid that looked suspiciously like blood, and her nose was bent in a way it could only bend if broken. Hermione stared, transfixed by the image, until Lavender opened her mouth and screamed. It was a noise so shrill and so loud that Hermione could do nothing but scream back, more afraid than she'd ever been.

But just as quickly as it had begun, the screaming stopped; and the image of Lavender was instantly replaced by the mysterious flower. Hermione kept screaming, heart pounding still harder as fear overcame her and she fell to the ground; the last image to come to her before she closed her eyes was the electric blue in the deadly black bloom.


	12. Revelations and Rewards

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard explained in the rehash section.

**Rehash: **Hermione confronted Harry about his sexuality; Draco and Nott went on a walk; Lavender seduced Ron and they were caught by Hermione; Hermione ran towards a mystery scream to find a painting of a flower, in which appeared an anguished form of Lavender Brown, before she collapsed before it.

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A/N: So sorry for the HUGE gap between updates; first some problems on the beta's end then my computer died. Either way, I hope to be back to semi-regular updates. I know last chapter's ending was a bit...confusing?...so hopefully between the rehash above and this chapter I'll have explained it well enough. Comments appreciated! I don't think there's anything else...oh, I took the Hermione/Ron ship down from the pairings portion and the "(eventually)" from the rating so...happy reading. XD

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**Chapter Twelve: Revelations and Rewards **

As the darkness about her began to dissipate, Hermione took in her surroundings. The common room, the same one she'd seen for the past six years, seemed almost normal; she might have believed everything was in order were it not for the odd way people moved about the circular fire-lit room. It was similar to watching one of her parents' DVD movies as it skipped, the way they were all walking, then pausing in place, then speeding up past normal, then walking again. As time sped by and the sun, visible through the window, crashed into the hills going many times faster than it should have been, as Hermione watched in a sort of dazed confusion as people went about their usual business.

When night had come and most people had left, the fire dying down in the furnace to a warm flicker, Hermione watched as Ron came through the portrait hole. _"Ron!"_ She stopped short at the sound of her voice; it echoed slightly, followed by a faint whooshing sound, almost as if the words had been sucked out of her mouth. She was not surprised to see that he couldn't hear her. "_I must be dreaming…_" she thought as she took the place opposite Ron on one of the sofas. "_Why would Ron be out so late by himself…?"_

Her question was quickly answered. Moving in the same back and forth jerky movements Hermione had been watching all afternoon, Lavender Brown snuck down the spiral stairs leading from the girls' dormitories. "Ron, is that you?" Suddenly, a rush of memory overcame Hermione as Lavender's words, _"Is that you...is that you….?"_, echoed around her. Hermione following the crude map, Ron and Lavender kissing, that horrible smug smile, Hermione running down the hall, a flower, Lavender dying, and finally a rush of deep ruby as she fell to the floor.

Her eyes snapped open and she winced at the harsh light that greeted her; that pain was quickly forgotten, however, when new ones announced themselves from her head, shoulders, side, and legs. Pulling herself up onto her shoulders, she used the wall for support as she stood, joints screaming in protest. Dimly noting her unconventional outfit, she turned to leave the corridor. She remembered the previous evening well now, how she'd come and seen the portrait of the flower. She paused before she rounded the corner, considered turning to look at the painting once more, but decided against it and continued walking.

Never in all her studies had she known of any painting with such captivating allure. She'd heard of and seen countless paintings that made their viewers want to dance, cry, sing, hop on one leg, stick out their tongues, and even propose to the next person they would see; but never had she heard of one that wouldn't let you look away. Her legs had moved of their own accord to bring her closer….no, this was not a normal magical painting. This…was dark magic.

The real question came when she wondered, _"What on earth would a dark magic painting be doing hanging in Hogwarts…?_" Remembering that she was a witch and, in fact, carried a wand, she pulled it out and alleviated most of the pain in her joints. She had no desire to see Ron, this meant avoiding the common room; Harry would probably ask her about what happened and she wasn't sure what she would tell him. It seemed the perfect opportunity to research the mysterious flower; so, when she reached the main stairwell, she headed down. Away from the common room and towards the library.

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"_Just what the hell am I supposed to do about this!"_ Draco shot a spell at a nearby vase, causing it to explode into a shower of multi-colored glass and flower petals. "Damn it!" he screamed aloud, uncomfortably aware at how horribly his flushed face must be clashing with his platinum hair. "_Damn good thing I'm not where anybody would come."_ He'd found himself a nice deserted classroom a few floors up on one of the towers people rarely used. If there were anywhere he could go to be alone, save for the forbidden room of requirement, this was it.

He thought back on the night his father had confronted him in the forest.

"_What do you want me to do?"_

"_Nothing, Draco; I just want you to know that you're going to have to do it."_

"_Why come to me now when I could easily report you? Dumbledore could have you before you had the opportunity to reach mother."_

"_Yes, but Draco, I don't think you'll do that."_

"_And why not?"_

"_Because I'm not the only one who could do your mother harm. Make no mistake, Draco; one misstep and she dies."_

"_Doesn't this all seem a bit cliché to you?" He tried to sound casual, witty, cold and flip but he knew better than to think his father would be fooled._

"_Clichés become so by being repeated; do you think people would repeat them if they did not work? I hadn't come to you this evening with the intention of giving you instruction, in fact I hadn't come to you this evening at all. I have…another guest I'd like to entertain so I'll make this brief. I want you to date Harry Potter."_

"_What?" It was all Draco could think to say. Why on earth would his father _want_ him to see Harry?_

"_I want you to date Harry Potter. It would be ideal to have you grow close to him, earn his trust. What better way into a teenage boy's heart than through his pants? So I'll say it again; date Harry Potter. Now go, Draco. I have more important matters than this to address this evening."_

His first thought upon hearing his instruction had been, of course, to avoid seeing Harry at all costs. His father knew that Draco was more than an enemy to Harry these days, but that wouldn't interfere with Draco telling him that Harry had found someone else. He could never pull it off, however, if his father used occlumency to peer into his mind. Step one: create false memory of Harry telling Draco he was through with him; step two: avoid seeing Potter.

Ever since he'd "switched sides" though, Draco had been undergoing a slow but steady and effective detachment of many of his previous sentiments. He could not, for example, hide his thoughts and feelings as easily as he had once done, nor could he convince himself of things he knew not to be true. This was why, as shattered glass clattered onto the dusty hardwood floors, Draco knew something had to be done. The difficulty came in figuring out what that was.

He left the classroom some hours later and when he did he had the distinct feeling that he was being followed. _These old towers give me the creeps…_he thought, noting the rusty armor statues and empty paintings that lined the walls of the dimly lit corridor. He'd just begun to put his suspicions about being followed to rest when he heard a faint thud, reminiscent of a strong footstep, sound behind him. He paused, but did not turn around. When he started walking again, it was faster; another thud and still his pace quickened. The thuds grew louder and more frequent until Draco broke into an all-out run. Behind him, he heard someone shout. _"Petrificus Totalus!" _

Draco felt his limbs go rigid and his balance leave him as he toppled face first onto the floor. With an uncomfortable dusty musk wafting at him from the carpet and a chink of sunlight shining just in his eye, he waited helpless as the mystery person approached. A surprisingly warm hand clenched his shoulder and turned him over; with a mixture of relief, fury, and warmth he looked up to the smiling face of Harry Potter.

"Hi there." He paused, as if waiting for Draco to speak. Draco rolled his eyes and waited for him to continue. "Right, you can't talk. Well, then I guess you'll have to listen." He stood over him, one leg on each side of his petrified form, hands shoved into the pockets of a pair of surprisingly stylish jeans. "I'm getting pretty tired of you ignoring me and being a little prat. I'm not familiar with the whole 'gay' thing like maybe you are, but I'm pretty sure that after you stick your tongue in another bloke's mouth you're supposed to talk to him or something." Draco's face reddened. _Potter could be so _tactless.

"So, I've come up with a solution." He pulled a folded up piece of parchment from one of his pockets. "Here's a paper with a meeting place and time on it, I want you to come." Something in Harry's expression faltered and he seemed a little less confident. "Right er…well yeah, here." He dropped to his knees in a not-ungraceful way so that his legs were close enough to Draco's torso to warm his skin. He seemed to struggle with something, but he made up his mind and leaned in to kiss Draco. It was awkward, mostly due to the odd way Draco's face had frozen, but it had a certain quirkiness about it that made Draco wish more than anything that he was unfrozen so he could join in on the fun. As quickly as it had begun, it was over and Harry pulled back. He wasn't smiling; he looked…nervous? Before Draco could decide for sure what emotion was lurking behind the golden boy's brilliant green eyes, Harry placed the piece of parchment in the small gap between Draco's lips and offered a wry smile before standing and walking away. "_Well, there goes my first plan. Damn Potter always has to ruin everything…"_ If his face weren't frozen, Draco was sure it would have stretched into a smile.

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"Hermione, I thought I'd find you here."

"Wha…oh, hello Harry." Hermione looked up at him, massive amounts of curly brown hair obstructing her view, from behind a pile of books.

"How long have you been in here?"

"Since this morning." Already she was back to poring over the pages of a particularly large tome entitled _"A Guide to Magical Floral Arrangements."_

Harry snickered at the title. "Hermione, I know you and Ron are pretty serious, but you seriously think it's time to start picking flowers for a wedding?" Hermione didn't find the joke as funny as he had, apparently; the instant his sentence had ended she burst into heavy sobs, drawing a reproachful glare from the librarian. Harry pulled out his wand and silenced her sobs so that as she collapsed on him, heaving with the force of her tears, she didn't make a sound.

When the tears subsided she pulled out her own wand and removed the silencing charm, also taking the time to straighten out her hair as much as she could and remove the red puffiness from under her eyes.

"Want to tell me what all that was about?"

"You mean you haven't heard?

"Heard what?" _Oh god…she started crying after I talked about her and Ron. Did she find out about Lavender?_

"I saw them kissing when I was on our way to our date last night."

"What!" A second reproachful glare. "Oh, sorry Madame Pince!" He lowered his voice. "You saw them doing what?"

"Kissing."

"But…but Ron loves you!"

"He told you that?"

"Well no…not like that. But I was pretty sure."

"Well Harry I really don't want to talk about it. But…" her face lit briefly as she stared off, as if thinking something over. "Harry, do you know anything about flowers?"

"Er…they smell nice."

She rolled her eyes. "No! I mean, dark magic flowers?"

"Hermione! I know you're upset with Lavender but you think sending her death flowers is really the best option!"

"No, but I think someone else does." At his look of confusion she launched into an explanation of the previous evening and how she'd come to see the portrait of the black and blue flower.

"And you say Lavender sort of…appeared there?"

"Yes."

Harry thought for a moment. "No, I've never heard anything like that before."

"I wonder if Malfoy's trying to bring death eaters in again…"

"No!" She looked at him, an eyebrow raised. "I mean er…no, I don't think he is."

"Why are you so sure. Last year you were _positive _he was, and you were right!"

"I just don't think he'd do it again. Besides, Dumbledore says he's switched sides."

"Oh, that reminds me!" Hermione rummaged through her pile of books and pulled out a piece of folded parchment. "He was in here a few hours ago, gave me this."

She handed it to him and he immediately recognized Dumbledore's long, narrow, slanted writing. "It says tomorrow night!"

"I know! Now come here and help me research this thing. You haven't got anywhere to be have you?"

Harry's mind briefly rested on Draco and their clandestine meeting scheduled for that evening, but he nodded his head. Together they pored over more books than Harry would otherwise read all year. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of their time spent in the Black family archives, and Harry was pleased to see that Hermione tired out before he did.

"This has got to be a first."

"Well it's almost dinner time."

"Not for another half hour."

"Right well er…I wanted to talk with you about something Harry."

"Ok, what is it?" She said nothing so he looked up from his book. "What?"

She sighed and pulled out her wand. "_Muffliato!"_

"What's that for?"

"Are you…gay, Harry?"

"Er…what?"

"You heard me, now answer the question."

"I…look, Hermione do we have to talk about this now?"

"Yes! Now are you or not?"

"Why does it even matter?"

"Just tell me!"

"Yes ok!" Harry stood with such force that it knocked his chair back to the floor. "I'm gay! Queer! A shirt-lifter! You happy now?" He stood heaving, watching as Hermione looked back at him, her face white and her eyes wide. She pulled out her wand and replaced his chair.

"Harry, sit down." He did; not because he wanted to listen to her but because he couldn't think of anything else to do. In saying it out loud…well that made it real, didn't it?

"You can't tell anyone."

"I won't, you know that. I just…why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did."

"I mean when you found out. Did you think I would…mind?"

"Well yeah, I guess. I don't know…I guess I didn't think it over that much."

"Well I don't mind, Harry. The only reason I want to know…wanted to know if you were…and you are…the only reason I wanted to know was so that I could tell you that it doesn't matter to me. That you're still my best friend and that's not going to change because you like boys."

Harry finally managed to look her in the eye. "Thanks, Hermione."

She smiled. "Now tell me, who's the lucky boy who's dating _you_?"

"What?"

"Well you came to me a while back about relationship troubles and I assume it was with a guy now that we know you're…queer, so tell me. Who is it?"

"Er…we're not dating."

"Harry."

"I'm telling the truth! It's…complicated. But I'll let you know once I figure it out, ok?"

"Fine."

"You're not going to tell Ron, are you?"

"I won't be talking to Ron about much of anything for a long while, least of all this. Don't worry your secret's safe with me."

He smiled and stood to leave. If he was going to make his appointment with Draco, he'd better hurry.

øøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøø

Draco looked down at the piece of parchment once more, checking to be sure he had the right place. Sure, Harry's handwriting wasn't the best and the ink was a little blotched from having sat in his mouth for a few minutes, but he was fairly certain this was it. He looked over at the lake a little in the distance and the Quiditch pitch the same distance away in the opposite direction. _And the forest is in front of me, with the oaf's cabin to the left so…this should be it._ But looking around, Draco didn't see a trail going off out into the country side. He looked at the last line on the parchment a second time.

_If you can't see, wand light will show you._

Of course. Draco had first thought it ridiculous that he would need a light to see, it was barely even dusk. But sure enough, as he pulled out his wand and whispered _"Lumos"_ a faint trail appeared. He followed it, a short way down a hill, as if curved to his left so that he was certain he'd ended up somewhere behind the lake on the opposite side of the castle. He came to a clearing and, figuring he'd gone far enough, looked for some place to sit. Finding nothing but a relatively flat stump and a large rock, he drew himself a chair with his wand and waited.

It was nearly dark when Harry arrived, walking down the same trail he'd come down earlier and carrying what looked like a brown paper shopping bag. "Brought me clothes, Potter? How sweet."

"No, _Draco_, I didn't bring you clothes. I brought _us_ some butterbeer." As he looked closer, Draco saw that the bag was indeed from The Three Broomsticks.

"How did you get that!"

"You're not the only one who knows how to get in and out of the castle without being noticed." Draco's face fell. "Er…sorry, I meant that as a joke…I guess we just won't talk about that then, huh?"

"Right."

"I'm actually kind of surprised you came; you're not usually one to take directions."

Draco watched as Harry transfigured the grass into a similarly colored plush carpeting and set the bottles of butterbeer down on it, along with a small pile of food probably pilfered from the Hogwarts kitchens. "Well, a first chance for everything I suppose. So what's the plan here, Harry? Get me drunk and feel me up?"

Harry smiled. "No, the plan is for me to get to know you better; and for you to get to know me." Draco sat, legs folded, on the carpet across from Harry. "So here's the deal. You get to ask me anything you want and I have to answer truthfully. Then I ask you a question."

"How do you know I'll tell the truth."

"Because…" Harry rummaged in the bag once more, emerging from it with a blank sheet of parchment. "Of this."

"And what exactly is 'this'? It looks like a sheet of parchment."

"It is, but once we sign our names, we'll be forced to tell the truth. And if we lie well…just don't lie, ok?"

Everything in Draco's good sense urged him not to sign the piece of paper, but it sort of reminded him of a game he, Blaise, and Pansy used to play when they were younger and the excitement of it had always enticed him. As he signed, Draco asked, "Where'd you get the idea for this anyway?"

Harry took the quill and signed his name beneath Draco's. "From Hermione."

"When does this wear off?"

"You can start lying to me again tomorrow."

"Excellent. I'll go first…" He thought while Harry uncorked a butterbeer. "Ok, why did you rule in my favor at the trial?"

"I already told you. I thought that what you did was terrible, but you had your reasons. I know better than most what bad things can come from good intentions, so I understood where you were coming from. And I didn't, and don't, think you'll do it again."

Draco nodded and grabbed a bottle. "Your turn."

"Do you want to date me? Like really date…?" Harry looked down, unable to meet Draco's stare.

"Hm…what exactly happens to me if I don't tell the truth?"

"You grow boils all over your face."

"Ah…" Draco paused, as if seriously weighing his options. "I…yeah, fine. I do want to date you," he mumbled, taking a long swig of his butterbeer. He'd never been one for holding his alcohol; maybe if he drank enough he wouldn't remember this embarrassing night. When he looked back up, Harry looked pleased. "Alright, enough gloating. It's your turn…Harry."

The rest of the questions went pretty smoothly, growing more and more risqué as they drank more and more butterbeer. Eventually they ran out, however, and resigned themselves to lying next to one another on the pale green carpet. After many long moments, Harry asked, "Why were you so cold to me these past few weeks?"

"Because my father came to me and told me to date you and get close to you so that I could exploit your weakness and use it to his advantage."

Harry sat up abruptly, turning to watch Draco's face with a pleading expression, as if he _wanted_ boils to appear on the pale-skinned youth.

"It's true. And I wasn't sure how to get around it so I figured if I was mean enough you'd give up and I wouldn't have to tell you I didn't want to see you anymore or whatever."

"You were mean to me for six years, and yet here we are. You thought that would work?"

"Well I didn't have a lot of options." Draco closed his eyes and smiled awkwardly, the alcohol relaxing his face muscles so that it looked more like a half-hearted grimace.

"I have a meeting with Dumbledore tomorrow night, you should come and we can tell him. He'll know what to do."

"Fine…"

Harry laid back down, his head close enough to Draco's so that he could hear the other boy's shallow breaths. "What do you want to do, right now?"

"It's my turn, Harry."

"Just tell me."

There was a few moments silence and Harry had begun to believe Draco had fallen asleep. Then in one swift motion, incredibly graceful for the amount of alcohol they'd consumed, Draco rolled over so that he was on top of Harry, legs to either side as if closing in on him. He looked him in the eyes for a few seconds before leaning in and kissing him.

Harry was surprised at how precise Draco's movements were; the way his tongue flitted over Harry's, the way his lips moved to match his own. Harry brought a hand around on Draco's back, sliding it beneath the fabric so that he felt the lean muscles flex beneath his touch. He pulled, drawing Draco closer, and Draco eagerly complied, pressing his groin into Harry's and running a hand over his chest.

In a moment's separation they each removed their shirts so that when they came back together their flesh warmed against one another. A thin light of sweat lubricated their movements, so that they became a fluid mass of muscle, sweat, flesh, and an intense passion that dictated their every movement.

Draco's hand came to Harry's nipple and pinched slightly, so that Harry bucked, his erection begging to be released from his jeans; and Draco's, equally hard, against his own. They ground harder into one another, hands sliding over arched backs and flexed stomachs and chests, tongues flicking over each other and down necks and at nipples. Until finally in one explosive moment, they came; Harry's hands gripping Draco's ass and Draco's behind Harry's lower back, pulling him upward.

They held each other, sweat cooling on their shirtless bodies as they lay still; each one knowing they never wanted that moment to end, and each one knowing it had to.


	13. A Death In the Family

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard explained in the rehash section.

**Rehash: **Hermione decided to investigate the mysterious flower; Lucius' request of Draco was revealed; and Draco and Harry had a picnic that came to a climatic conclusion.

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A/N: SUCCESS! I was actually going to post this chapter two days ago but the site wouldn't let me upload the document for whatever reason. Either way, it's up here now. Plus I just sent the next one off to the beta so expect a pretty quick update. So...Harry and Draco finally hooked up!!...sort of. Weeel we'll just have to see what those two get into this time XD. Comments are, as always, appreciated. Oh, and I added my myspace url to my profile so if any of you want to hit me up on there, I'd love to chat (I heart new people). That about covers it...happy reading!

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**Chapter Thirteen: A Death in the Family**

"Acid pops," Harry announced to the now familiar gargoyle statues. They gave him a menacing glare before parting, allowing him entry to the spiral staircase he knew would take him to the headmaster's office. He'd been anxiously awaiting Dumbledore's invitation since he'd arrived at Hogwarts; but now that the time had come he actually wished he could have rescheduled. Of course he was interested in hearing what Dumbledore had to say, but he was more interested in spending time with Draco. He wasn't confused, he knew that his conversations with Dumbledore were important for his survival, but Draco had become the only thing in his life he was really happy about. He was furious with Ron and his betrayal of Hermione's trust and he was beginning to dislike Hermione's company as well because all she did was read, write, then read some more. But Draco…Draco was something else.

He smiled as he knocked on the wooden door, remembering their "picnic" the previous evening. Muffled slightly by the wood, he head the familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore beckon him. "Enter." He pushed the thought out of his mind before opening the door. "Ah, Harry, please come sit. I've much to discuss with you."

"Alright, Professor. Just one thing, though. I need to speak with you about something important." He'd been unable to convince Draco to attend their meeting, but that didn't bar him from seeking Dumbledore's advice on the matter.

"Yes, fine Harry, but let's wait until after you've seen the memories I've shown you. If your reaction is anything like mine, you'll be likely to rethink whatever it is you have to tell me."

Apparently Dumbledore thought he wished to speak about Voldemort; either way, he'd bring it up after their lesson. "What is it, professor?"

Dumbledore lifted a vial of some wispy white substance Harry knew to be a memory. "This, Harry, is the rarest memory I've collected thus far in my investigation into understanding Lord Voldemort."

"I thought Slughorn's was the rarest?"

"No, that was simply the hardest to attain. But this," he raised the vial, a familiar twinkle of curiosity flickering in his blue eyes, "this, Harry, is the memory of an unspeakable."

Harry's eyes widened; an unspeakable was a person who worked for the department of mysteries, sworn to silence about their work. "But aren't they not allowed to reveal their memories? I mean, I would think the ministry would erase them or something."

"They do, but not before taking copies of them and storing them for further examination."

"So how did you get a copy? I thought the ministry wasn't to keen to help you…?"

"They're not, but Finney Keller is."

"Who's he?"

"A member of the ministry; he runs the Department for Internal Ministry Affairs office."

"And he just handed this over?"

"Not at all. It took some drastic measures to attain, but the important thing to note is that I have gotten it and now we can view it. Shall we?" He stood and retrieved his pensive from its usual cupboard and placed it on the desk. As he uncorked the small vial and poured in the dream, Harry watched in fascination as the pensive turned completely black.

"Professor—?"

"Just wait, Harry." Together they dived into the basin, feeling the familiar swirling sensation that accompanied the journey. When they arrived, Harry was surprised to see that they were not in some scene of a dream, but a completely black plane without a discernable floor or any walls. He could see Dumbledore clearly; and although he could not see the floor, his feet felt as if he were standing on something very solid.

"Where are we?"

"A memory index. You see, Harry, when a memory is retrieved it automatically forms a sort of play that one can watch at will. The ministry, however, archived hundreds of memories a day and therefore needed a more organized method of collecting. I believe it was in the late eighteen hundreds that the head of the Department of Mysteries at the time devised this way of accessing saved memories."

"So it's like a lot of memories in one?"

"Yes, but there is more to it than that. These memories have been prepared so that they can be watched in succession as one fluid memory or in the parts as they were collected. Either way, we can summon the memories of this unspeakable by concentrating on a subject. For example, if I want to see memories that relate to you…" Dumbledore closed his eyes for a few seconds before two pictures materialized out of the blackness; one of Harry's prophecy on it's shelf and the second of Harry waving to him in passing.

"Wait, I recognize that memory! Yeah, we met this guy at the Quiditch World cup a few years back; Mr. Weasley introduced us to him!"

"That is very likely; Arthur assisted in the acquisition of this memory index, being a friend of the man from whom it was collected is a likely reality. But we haven't much time, Harry, so I'd like to draw your attention to the memory that made me call you here tonight." He closed his eyes once more and the two memories disappeared, replaced with what seemed like hundred of others. Slowly, however, Dumbledore thought them away and they disappeared, eventually leaving two memories.

"Now come and touch this memory here." They both placed their hands upon the picture of the memory and felt the swirling sensation one more before landing in what looked like a dimly lit conference room. Harry watched as two men entered. The first, a lean man with dark circles around his eyes and wavy black hair, Harry did not recognize; the second, however, was all too familiar.

"That's Cornelius Fudge!"

"Yes it is." Dumbledore motioned for Harry to turn his attention back to the pair of men. Harry did and watched as they spanned the room, coming to stand before a rectangular window, the light on the other side of which made the two men's faces bright.

"I don't understand why we're to believe him in the first place," Fudge was saying, staring down through the window with a wide frown.

"Look at him!"

"Are you familiar with the term 'metamorphmagus', Dreward? This could easily be a disguise."

The man called Dreward continued in a somewhat strained tone. "Yes, I am familiar. I am also familiar with the limitations on such a wizard; even you have to see that this man would be a considerable exception to the metamorphmagus community."

"Even so, I'm going to need more proof if I'm to accept such a wild claim."

"Do you think you would have been invited here if I didn't have more proof?"

"Watch yourself, Dreward; I'm not a person you want to upset."

He sighed. "We have questioned him as well; under the influence of both Veritaserum and aggressive Legilimency."

"An accomplished Occlumens can counter both."

"Yes, but not under the presence of an anti-magic field. You know as well as I that our interrogating rooms are protected from magic."

"Then how did you use Legilimency in the first place, Dreward?"

"We don't need a wizard to perform Legilimency," the man called Dreward said, darkly.

Fudge pursed his lips and paused before looking away from whatever they were watching below and saying, "Very well, take me to him. I'd like to interrogate him myself. If it seems legitimate, I will take this matter to the public."

The two men turned to leave the room, Fudge fitting his horrible lime-green bowler hat to his balding head, but Dumbledore stood still. "Shouldn't we follow them?" Harry asked.

"It is not necessary, we will be able to see them from here. Go ahead," he walked to the window the two men had previously been standing before. "See for yourself what they are talking about."

Harry moved apprehensively to the window, looking down through it upon one of the most horrific things he'd ever seen. Below him was a plain square room, all walls carved of a plain brown stone, in the center of which sat a man restrained to a chair not unlike the one he'd sat in at his trial a few years prior. The only thing was, it wasn't _really_ a man.

The thing in the chair was some parody of an actual human, morphed somehow with a snake. Harry had always thought of Voldemort as snake-like in appearance, but next to this man he looked positively normal. The thing's skin was a pale green with a faint bruise-like pattern that resembled scales running up his neck and halfway down his arms and legs. His eyes were slits, red and menacing, and his head was bald and flanked on either side with the webbed extensions Harry had seen once on a king cobra in a zoo. Between his legs slithered a tail, unmistakably a snake's, and his fingers and toes ended in a slight point, though without any nail. Every few moments, Harry could see the beast's forked tongue slither out of it's slit of a mouth, armed with two long, thin and dangerous looking fangs.

"Is that a snake man?"

"The correct term is Anguiveneficus, but you have the general idea."

Harry would have very much liked to ask more questions, but below them Fudge had entered the room. Harry watched as the chained thing clenched in pain and a pale blue light shone around it's head; Fudge waited for the thing to relax before speaking.

"What is your name?"

"Duradama." Listening to the thing speak was like listening to a snake whisper a long and secretive hiss.

"What is your species?"

"Anguiveneficus."

"Who is your master?"

"Lord Voldemort." _No surprise there_, though Harry.

"Who is your mother?"

"Nagini."

"Nagini?" said Harry. "But isn't that—?"

"Who is your father?"

"Lord Voldemort."

Harry's jaw dropped and he turned to Dumbledore, speechless. "I think we've seen all there is to see here for this evening." Dumbledore raised a hand and the two of them were sent swirling back into Dumbledore's office.

"Voldemort he…he had a son?"

"I believe so, yes."

"But…how? I mean he…and Nagini, his snake, they…?"

Dumbledore smiled, perhaps at Harry's naïvety. "No, they did not actually have to copulate to conceive a son. Creating an Anguiveneficus requires many things; firstly it requires the wizard to speak parstletounge and secondly it requires a great deal of magical ability. It is easy to understand, then, how Anguivenefici are so rare." He allowed Harry a few moments to think.

"But then…how does this matter? I mean, I understand it's shocking and all that, but how does this really affect me and Voldemort and our…final battle?"

"Don't you see, Harry? The desire to reproduce is a property solely of humans and full-bred animals. Half-human species such as Centaurs or Hags or Giants do not feel this natural urge; that is why only the intelligent half-human species are thriving, they _know_ they must reproduce. This instinct makes Voldemort human!"

"We already knew that, though."

"No, we didn't! This memory was collected _after_ Voldemort's return to his body. The process of his resurrection has up until now been a mystery, but the result is out of the dark; he's still human and therefore completely devoid of life. The only reason he's alive is because he created Horcruxes; there is no other superhuman ability playing into his health."

"Sir, I don't mean to sound thick, but I'm still not sure how this changes anything…"

"It changes everything, Harry! This means that if we destroy the Horcruxes, he dies without you having to cast a single spell at him."

"But he is a horcrux, to destroy it I'll have to kill him."

"Not necessarily. The Horcrux would most likely have been passed to Voldemort's son when he was conceived as the birthing process would have consumed unimaginable amounts of his magical ability. It's most likely that the portion of Voldemort's magical ability that was his remaining soul departed into Duradama."

"So we just have to find and kill him, along with the other Horcruxes, to kill Voldemort?"

"We would, yes, were he still alive." Dumbledore pressed his wand to the basin's edge, summoning up the miniaturized form of Duradama; he was not sitting in a chair now, however, he was lying on the ground.

"He's dead?"

"Yes, Harry; he's dead."

"So this means…"

"Yes. We only have three more Horcruxes to destroy."

Harry's mind was so alive with thoughts and possibilities as he left Dumbledore's office that he had forgotten entirely his intention to speak with the headmaster about Draco's confession.

øøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøøø

"Harry, you're late. I'm going to have to take a few house points," Tonks muttered as he rushed in the door.

"I understand, professor," he called back, skidding into his seat next to Hermione.

"Where have you been? I assumed when you weren't at breakfast that you'd already come to class!"

He avoided her reproachful stare, removing his book and supplies from his bag, and said, "I slept in."

"Why were you so tired? What time did you get back from your meeting with Dumbledore?"

"Around eleven, but I couldn't sleep."

"Really?" she said, leaning closer as Harry double-checked the board to see which page they were supposed to have opened to. "That good?"

"Better. I'll tell you everything after class; we've got free period the rest of the day."

"Harry," called Tonks from the front of the classroom. "I already had to take points for tardiness, don't make me take some for talking too."

"Right er…sorry, Professor."

"Now, today we will be continuing our study of alchemy. But before we launch into the lesson, I have some bittersweet news. This will be the last of our alchemy lessons." Some people were clapping while others, Hermione included, were making soft noises of disappointment. "So, we'll cover this and start preparing for an exam." She looked to Hermione, whose hand was raised. "Yeah, Hermione?"

"Professor, why are we done with Alchemy already? We're only half way through that portion in the book."

"Right, well the ministry doesn't feel its N.E.W.T. centric."

"I thought they eased off now that Fudge is out of office?" asked Shamus.

"Well actually, they've done just about everything short of hiring Umbridge again." There were several noises of horror from the class. "My feelings exactly. But let's not talk about that now; this lesson is going to take up a lot of our time so we'd better get started. Now if all of you will please take out the ingredients I'm writing on the board…" She waved her wand and a list appeared on the black surface.

When everyone had finished, she asked, "Now, can anyone make a guess as to what we'll be making today?"

To no one's surprise, Hermione raised her hand. However, Tonks chose to call someone else's name. "Yeah, Draco, what do you think?"

Something inside Harry flared; a mixture of longing and embarrassment. He kept his features as emotionless as possible, though; these days Hermione was looking for any sign of attraction within Harry. Thankfully, she was too busy glaring at Ron, who had busied himself by doodling people on brooms on a spare piece of parchment.

"Either a memory enhancement potion or a forced confession potion; the ingredients could be used to make either."

"Correct, but today we'll be making a forced confession potion. The ingredients on the board are going to be used to begin the process of combining Veritaserum and Imbiofero, the two most potent truth potions. These are not all the ingredients, but the process will take about a week and we'll be adding more as we go. Ten points for the correct answer, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked a little more confident; this class had become much less familiar territory without his friends (Draco had been the only one to make it to N.E.W.T. level from his house) and his beloved Snape. "Now, we will be using pre-prepared Veritaserum and Imbiofero to save on time; however, because these potions are so expensive, you will only be getting one vial of each. If you waste it, you will fail the project, there's no way around it. Now, can someone come help me pass these out…?"

By the end of the class Tonks had begun circling through the cauldrons, inspecting the contents. Harry's potion, though not the perfect simmering translucent jasmine like Hermione's, was at least purple; Ron, on the other hand, was currently sweating over a cauldron full of a thick puce-colored mass. "Ron, you're going to want to add some Helleflora Root to clear that up…and then a little, and I mean a _little_, bit of powdered Neflek should set you back on track."

"Thanks professor," Ron mumbled. Harry felt a jab of vindictive pleasure at seeing Ron struggle and it occurred to him that maybe it was time to try talking to Ron. If he was truly honest with himself, he just wanted everything to be alright. It was probably up to him to try and fix things then…Ron was too stubborn and Hermione was far from ever speaking to him again. He hadn't been hanging around with Lavender, much to her chagrin, so maybe it was just a one-time mistake…

"Excellent, Hermione! And Harry, yours is getting there as well; good job. Alright, class; it's time to start cleaning up! Cast preservation spells on your potions and store them as usual, then clean up your ingredients! Finnegan, make sure to clean under your table this time, will you?"

Just as people began to stand up to clear their space someone came bursting through the dungeon doors, running so fast they almost collided with Tonks as they reached the front of the classroom. With a closer look, Harry saw that it was Colin Creevy. "Merlin's beard, what is it?" Tonks asked, looking wide-eyed at Colin, who was hunched over and heaving out of breath.

"He didn't even ask for your autograph, Harry; it must be serious," Hermione said, and Harry had to suppress a laugh.

"I…bathroom…and…I just…full…so I…there she…under sink…"

"Calm down, tell me what's wrong! You aren't making any sense."

Hermione approached and pulled out her wand. "_Anapneo!_" Colin's breathing steadied considerably.

"I just went to the bathroom but the boy's room was full or something because the door was locked."

"I hardly see the emergency."

"No! Then I went into the girl's room—" There were a few scoffs from the class but Colin ignored them. "Then I went into the girl's room and I saw her lying under the sink!"

"Who, who was under the sink? Is she still alive?

"No! She was dead when I found her." Colin's hands were shaking vigorously at his sides and his eyes were shifting rapidly; Harry knew what he must be going through, finding someone dead. "I can't remember her name…she's in seventh year, I think."

"Come," Tonks grabbed his arm and began steering him through the audience towards the door, "show me."

"Veronica…no…Daphne…no…" The class listened eagerly as Tonks pulled him out the door. "Oh, I remembered! It's Lavender! Lavender Brown!"

There was a collective gasp from everyone in the class as they stared through the door where Colin and Tonks had left. Slowly, however, and in one collective motion they all turned their heads around towards the front of the class. Harry turned to see what they were looking at; it was Draco. For a moment he seemed impassive, but then he saw Harry. A flicker of sadness, so absolute it made Harry shudder, passed over his face before he shoved the last of his ingredients haphazardly into his bag and left the classroom.

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"Harry, wait up!"

"Look, I don't want to talk to you, ok. I don't have anything to say."

"Well I do, so listen!"

Harry turned and stared upon Ron's pleading expression; he didn't _want _to talk to Ron, he wanted to talk to Draco. Draco had to understand that Harry would never accuse him of such a thing, he _had _to. "Fine, make it quick." His urgency to reach Draco masking his surprise that Ron had approached him.

Ron pulled Harry off down a few feet into a side corridor with a statue of a famous magical midwife. "Look, I don't know what Hermione told you but I _didn't _kiss Lavender. She threw herself on me! I was going to get food from the kitchen when she cornered me!"

"Even if you didn't that time, I knew you were when I saw you the first time." As his odds of catching up with Draco grew slimmer by the second, Harry became more frustrated. "You were all over her and it probably wasn't the first time, either."

"No, but it was the first time since Hermione and I started dating at the end of last year! I know it was wrong, Harry, but I didn't mean to, alright?"

"You were on top!"

"Yeah, but it was after one of the inter-house parties! I'd had way too much butterbeer and she took advantage!"

"You're not a damsel in distress, Ron. You expect me to believe that this was all Lavender's fault!"

"Yes! Well…" Ron looked down and muttered, "Maybe if Hermione and I spent more time together…"

"That's no excuse!"

"I know it's not! I feel terrible about what happened, even if I _didn't _start it!"

"Then tell Hermione that, not me." For the first time in weeks, Harry had begun to think Ron might actually have a reasonable explanation for what he'd done. And here it was…and it even made sense.

"I want to but she won't listen, mate. That's why I need you to convince her to hear me out. I know she'll understand but…but she just won't give me the time of day." Ron's throat tightened and he began to blink rapidly.

"Are you going to _cry_?" It wasn't that Harry was against it or anything, he had just never seen Ron like this since his dad was in the hospital.

"Just convince her, will you?"

Harry put a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Sure mate…I'll see what I can do."

Ron pulled him into a quick hug. "I'm glad you're talking to me again."

"Did you think I'd ever really stop?"

Ron smiled.

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"Sorry I'm late, Hermione; I had something to do." Harry took his seat beside her under their usual tree by the lake.

"Its fine, I've just been working on that essay Lupin gave us."

"Any word on Lavender?"

"Yes; it was her, and she did…well, she's dead. Murdered, from the looks of it."

"You seem pretty blasé about all this, Hermione."

She looked up from her paper. "It's not that I don't care; I never liked her but I certainly didn't want her dead! I think it's because I read about death in the paper every day now…it's almost like a second nature, if you know what I mean."

"I do," said Harry, recalling how just a few mornings ago he'd read about the death of a former Ravenclaw Quiditch player and been surprisingly unaffected.

"So tell me," she set down her parchment and quill, "what did Dumbledore tell you?"

Harry launched into an explanation of the memory index, the scene they'd witnessed, and Dumbledore's thoughts on what it all must mean. "And then he said that we just had three more to go. I won't even have to fight Voldemort if we can find them!"

"What will happen to him when you do?"

"I don't know…I suppose he'll just keel over or something."

"Well, then this makes finding those last Horcruxes doubly important!"

"I suppose. Er, listen, Hermione…I've got a favor to ask you."

"Sure, Harry; what is it?"

"I need you to listen to what Ron has to say."

"What? I thought you were as mad at him as I was, why do you want me to _listen_ to him?"

"Because I did and well…I think you should too. Trust me on this one, will you. You're right, I was as mad at him as you were, and now I'm not. Don't you think he must have had a pretty damn good explanation if I'm not mad anymore?"

"Harry I…I just don't think I can. I know it sounds pathetic but…it would hurt a lot and I just don't think I want to put myself through that right now."

"I know you're hurting, so this will make it better! Come on, 'Moine, do this for me! I promise you won't regret it!"

"I don't know, Harry…"

"How's this: you listen to Ron and I'll tell you who I'm seeing."

Something flashed behind Hermione's eyes. "You know I could always find out eventually…"

"Yeah, but this way's a lot quicker. Please…?"

She offered him a weak smile. "Ok, fine; I'll hear what he has to say."

* * *

A/N (again): Ok, I normally don't add notes at the bottom but I added two things to this world so I thought I'd explain them. The snake-man (Anguiveneficus) is pronounced ain-gOOee-vehneh-fihcuss and it's a combinations of the latin word for serpent (angui) and wizard (veneficus). Duradama is a member of the holy hierarchy in Indian culture (which I thought was appropriate since Nagini is also an Indian name). And finally, the Anapneo spell (was NOT one of my creations) but was a seldom used spell in the books, so I thought I'd remind whoever forgot that that spell was used...I think to clear an airway, so I figured it would work for poor flustered Colin as well.

Hope you liked it!


	14. Go Ahead, Ask Me

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard explained in the rehash section.

**Rehash: **Dumbledore shows Harry a memory that proves Voldemort had a son; Lavender Brown was discovered dead in a girls washroom; and Harry convinced Hermione to listen to Ron.

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A/N: Added a bit of plot in the last one (centered more around Voldemort) so I thought it was time for some developments between Harry and Draco. WARNING: The end of this chapter has enough fluff to choke a sheep (or maybe I just think that...not a big fan of fluff, myself). Comments appreciated! (And yeah, I messed up on Seamus' name, I'm not sure why, but it's fixed in chapters to come! Oh, and sorry but I can't write Hagrid's "accent" or vernacular or what have you worth a damn...but I tried! Don't murder me if somethings off (which I'm sure it is)

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**Chapter Fourteen: Go Ahead…Ask Me**

Somewhere in the distance a bird was tapping it's beak against a windowpane; the sharp jab juxtaposed with the dead silence pulling forth an excruciating headache. Were she equipped with her wand, she might have alleviated the pain, but that was one of the first things they'd taken from her. Her accommodations weren't all too bad; certainly of a higher caliber than another prisoner would expect, but nothing on her mansion home. She sat on the end of her bed, allowing her hair and robes to hang on her like wilted petals clinging desperately to their stem.

A lot had happened to Narcissa since she'd left the Mansion with Lucius, most of it less than enjoyable. She'd been forbidden from seeing where they were going, of course, so she'd spent the journey blindfolded and restrained. Days later when they'd thought to release her, her already thin features seemed more so to the point that her skin was so stretched across her sharp face it looked as though it might tear. Her hair had lost its sheen and even her eyes had calmed from a fierce icy blue to something resembling a midday sky.

The bird, still dutifully tapping away, let out a quick cry of pain somewhere out of sight; there was no more tapping. Narcissa felt a strange sadness; she'd hated the bird and the noise it made constantly, but it too was a prisoner. They were in this together, and now she was alone. A door opened but she didn't look to see who it was; there was only one person that came to see her here.

"Narcissa, I thought you'd like to know that your time here is almost finished." She said nothing, so he continued. There was a thud, as if he had set something down, and then the sound of his boots clacking on the tile as he approached her. "The girl has died; I must admit I'm surprised he could go through with it."

"You trained him well."

"Yes, but there wasn't much time. Even I am not capable of preparing a servant so quickly."

"Here I was, sitting and thinking how you could do anything. You've shaken my world twice now, Lucius."

"With the second one out of the way, it won't be long. The dark lord will make his move and you will go home."

"I'm aware of your plan, Lucius. You needn't speak as if you are concerned when I go home, I know better."

"Why Narcissa, you're my wife! Of course I care for you."

"No, Lucius. You care for the jealous looks you receive when I hold your arm and the status that comes from marrying into my family, not for me. I realize that now…you never loved me. You never loved Draco."

He stepped away, boots clacking towards the door. "I've brought you something; I hope you like it." He closed the door behind him as he left. When she looked up she saw it sitting on a table by the door; a gold-wire domed birdcage. At the bottom was a dead bird, one wing held awkwardly at its side as if broken. Behind the cage was a mirror; in it was her own caged reflection staring back at her.

"Looks like I'm not alone after all," she said, standing and walking over to look down upon the dead blackbird. Without thinking about it, she unlatched the cage and picked up the bird, pressing her hand at it's side so that it's wing folded correctly. With the same hand, she caressed the bird's still-warm body. "There, there…it's almost over," she cooed as silent tears stained her cheeks.

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"Here it is," said Hermione, pushing aside a bowl of cranberry muffins to set down the _Daily Prophet _a barn owl had just delivered to her. "Lavender Brown, student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was executed—oh, that's a bit harsh—and found dead in one of the many witches restrooms."

"Harsh? She was murdered," said Ron, not looking up from his piece of toast.

"They don't know that, that's why they're investigating."

An awkward silence fell over the three of them as Hermione continued reading and Ron focused on his food. Harry hadn't been expecting things to go immediately back to the way they were upon Hermione hearing Ron's confession, but this in-between stage was excruciating. Since Hermione had listened to Ron they'd at least begun talking again, but it wasn't like they used to; their conversations were short, usually confined to a sentence or two, and they still seemed keen to avoid each other's stare.

"That's it! You two, this is getting ridiculous! Ron, you messed up and apologized. Hermione, you heard him out and forgave him. Now why are you two still acting as though you can't stand one another?" Harry didn't want to snap at his friends but between their impasse and the countless ministry officials crawling the castle investigating Lavender's death, he was at the end of his rope.

Some of the people sitting near them looked over with mild curiosity on their faces and Ron and Hermione looked around the Great Hall nervously. "Harry, keep it down, mate."

"Yes, Harry, the entire school doesn't need to know our business."

"Please, Hermione; you should know by now that news travels fast," said Ginny, smiling slyly over a cup of pumpkin juice.

"Still, I don't want to have this conversation broadcast for everyone to hear!"

"Fine, keep it to a whisper, but answer the question."

"It's going to take time, Harry."

"Yeah," said Ron, "I messed up pretty bad it's…well yeah, it's going to take time."

"Well let me know when you've finished, I can't stand this!" Harry glanced over to the Slytherin table to see if Draco was still there; he wasn't. Relieved, he stood and began walking towards the exit. He'd been trying to find Draco and talk to him since the potions disaster but then he realized he really wasn't sure what to say to him. He'd never had to apologize to Draco before…not about something like this, anyway. So he'd begun avoiding him; and here it was, Friday night, and he'd managed to dodge him every meal. Chastising himself for his uncanny ability to procrastinate, he left the Great Hall.

"Hold it, Potter."

Harry stopped. "What is it, Malfoy?" He turned and saw Draco, who looked as if he wanted more than anything to jump into Harry's arms. Or maybe not; maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"You've been ignoring me all week and in case you haven't noticed, I'm not one who takes to being ignored!" He was inches from him, anger radiating from his livid expression. Luckily, they were alone in the entryway. Most students were still at dinner and others who hadn't gone were likely getting ready for inter-house parties or throwing end-of-the-week celebrations of their own.

"Look, I'm sorry, but can we do this later?"

"No, we can't do this later!" Draco was yelling now. "You don't get to ask me out, kiss me, accuse me—"

"I never—!"

"—of killing someone, then ignore me all week! You're the one who wanted something steady and now you've got it! So make up your mind, Potter! Do you want me or don't you, because I haven't got the time of day to wait around wondering!"

Harry stared at him, white as a ghost, as he heaved on the spot. Someone coughed and they both turned, seeing with mortification that someone had exited the hall. It didn't take long for them to realize that everyone in the great hall had heard their argument. Harry had never seen such a wide array of emotion; the student body had always been eager to express how they felt about him but usually it was the same feeling. Now, however, as he looked over the sea of staring faces he saw a mixture of happiness, confusion, disgust, hatred, curiosity, apprehension, and even a little sadness. Even the teachers had taken to staring, Dumbledore looking directly to Harry with an unreadable expression.

The boy who'd exited moved quickly, apparently remembering what he was doing, so that the doors began to close. Just before they did, however, Harry saw Hermione smiling at him. Next to her, though, Ron looked angry to a degree Harry had only once seen before; the night his name had flown out of the goblet of fire.

When the doors had closed and Harry turned back to Draco, he was gone. Knowing that he could not go back to the common room, Harry opted to head outside. It was about time he'd visited Hagrid anyway.

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""Old on a minute! Fang, ye stupid dog. Quit yer barkin!" Hagrid opened his cabin door and looked down at Harry. "'Arry! 'Bout time you came ter see me. I've been meanin to ask yeh…Harry? Is sum'mit the matter?" Harry said nothing so Hagrid moved aside and motioned him in. "Come in here, I just made sem tea. Sit down and tell me what 'appened."

Harry took the tea Hagrid prepared for him, consuming something in Hagrid's house without checking it for the first time since his first year at Hogwarts. As he finished his explanation, Hagrid sat in stunned silence for a few moments.

"Ye know, I always kinda espected. I mean…how it didn't work out with you and tha' Cho girl? And then with Ginny…well she's no' the kind o' girl you'd throw back if you were eh…if yer liked girls."

"Er…thanks, Hagrid," said Harry, fairly sure there was a compliment in there somewhere.

"So why are you so worred abou' wha' other people're thinkin anyhow? You've never cared wha' they think."

"But now I'm supposed to be this symbol for a better future. Even if I'm not parading around with the ministry, I'm still doing the same thing, aren't I? I've made a commitment of sorts to the wizarding community, and now they know the person they're supposed to trust their lives to is a bleeding shirt-lifter."

"Now wha's wrong with bein' a…ye know, a gay?"

"I don't know…nothing, I guess. But it's not really a thing people like to advertise."

"Well, so you 'idn't 'ave a choice. Big deal! A' least this saves ye the trouble of 'avin to come out'er the closet, righ'?"

"I guess…but Hagrid you didn't see the way he looked at me!"

"Who looked at yer?"

"Ron!"

"Oh, righ'. Well 'e's jus' gonna need some time, Harry. He'll come'eround."

"I hope so…"

That was the last they said on the matter for the rest of the evening. Harry told Hagrid about how his classes (ones taught and one's taken) had been going and Hagrid told Harry about the wide variety of dangerous creatures he was subjecting his classes to. At the end of the evening, Hagrid sent Harry back to the castle with a few biscuits that actually turned out to be edible.

It was almost past curfew by the time he'd entered the front doors but you'd never know it by how many people were still hanging around in corridors. Harry supposed it was because of the parties. On his way back to the common room, he received a whole variety of responses. At first, people had come up to him and said things like "you're so brave!" and "I hope this makes you happy, Harry"; the comments buoying his mood. But by the time he'd reached the fat lady he'd heard more nasty comments than he'd ever done, people yelling things like "here's hoping you know who can get rid of you know what!" and "want some, Potter?" from a chubby boy who'd lifted his shirt at him.

He rushed into his dorm, ignoring all the calls from the common room, bursting open the door and crashing on his bed, pulling the curtains closed tight. He was alone in the room; Ron was probably out helping with one of the parties. That meant Draco was too…Harry wondered vaguely if he'd skived it off. He let himself slip off into sleep, more eager than ever to leave the waking world behind if only for a few hours.

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The next morning the shockwave hadn't seemed to have subsided. All copies of the _Daily Prophet_ showed two pictures, one of Harry and one of Draco, but that was no surprise. He still received comments in passing and occasionally a few words of encouragement, but by the time breakfast was over, he was fully prepared to never see any of them again. He'd managed to get there earlier than Hermione, but as he was leaving she came in and spotted him.

"There you are, come sit down!"

"I was just leaving."

She sighed. "Fine, then I'll go with you, but we need to talk!"

"Hermione, not now!"

"Yes now! You know I was going to remind you of your little promise last night when you stormed off, but I guess Draco did my work for me."

Harry stepped outside. "Why are you calling him Draco?"

"Well, if you're going to be making out with him, I can at least call him by his name, can't I?"

"I suppose…how do you know if we've been making out."

"Well Draco said you kissed him, I assumed that implied snogging."

"Right well…this doesn't bother you?"

"Well, to be honest, not really. I mean, I already told you I'm ok with you being gay. And I already told all of you that I was ready to forgive Draco and let him start over, seeing as how…well after what happened to him." They walked for a few moments in silence. Eventually Hermione asked Harry how it had all come about and he launched, only half reluctantly, into an explanation of the last few months.

"I really like him, Hermione."

"Do you love him?"

"I…well I mean it's a bit early to know that, right?"

"You never know; Ron and I knew pretty quickly."

"He told you that?"

"You know him, Harry. He never really says anything; he just sort of implies it and tells you through his actions."

"Right, like last night he told me 'I hate you, you're a pervert, I never want to speak with you again'."

"He did not!"

"You didn't see that look, Hermione! He's furious with me and I don't even really know why. It's not like this is some decision I made to piss him off. Like one morning I woke up and thought 'you know what would make Ron mad, kissing Draco' and I just went out and did it!"

"I know that, Harry, and believe it or not so does Ron. He's just confused. This is kind of a big deal for him."

"But why? That's what I don't get. Why is this such a big deal? What's so bad about it?"

"Nothing!"

"Then what's so interesting about it because everyone in the school wants to talk about it. Lavender _died_ yesterday and only a few close friends and the ministry investigators seem like they even care! Everyone would rather talk about who I chose to sleep with than what's going on with Voldemort or what they've got going on in their classes."

"Well of course they would, it's infinitely more entertaining." He scowled at her. "Come on, why are you so worked up over this. It'll blow over; the pureblood families are pretty traditional but you'd be surprised…the majority of the wizarding community is much more open than the muggle one."

"I don't really care about everyone; I just want my friends to see that I'm no different than how I was before. Speaking of, how's Ginny?"

"Please, Harry, you didn't think we knew? She probably knew before I did."

"Oh…well great, I'm so gay people can tell by looking at me."

"Well they can now," she smiled and he couldn't help but smile back.

"Now about Draco…well you should probably find him. I hear he didn't go to his party last night which may or may not be a good sign…where do you think he'd be?"

"Well, if I know him, which I sort of don't…anyway, he's probably somewhere where most people don't go. So Hermione, where would you be right now?"

She clicked her tongue at him. "_Well_, I was actually going to head to the Library after breakfast."

"Of course! I'll see you later, Hermione, he's probably there." He stood and ran off, Hermione watching him as he did with a faint smile on her face. She probably was a little more uneasy than she let Harry believe, but it meant the world to her to see him this happy.

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"Do you want me or don't you? Because I haven't got the time to wait around wondering!" Draco could not believe the words he'd just screamed, but more than that he could not believe he'd screamed them to the entire school. It took only a few seconds for him to know what he needed to do; get the _hell_ out of there. Most of the school was staring at Harry anyway; of course, they'd expect this kind of behavior out of the delinquent but surely not their golden savior. Draco rolled his eyes and skipped off towards the dungeon, never drawing Harry's attention away from his audience.

Since when does a Malfoy yell such things? He was supposed to be refined, controlled, and always, _always_, level-headed. That outburst was not the behavior expected of him; then again, it probably wasn't expected of him to go around making out with his father's bosses arch-rival either. The thought of Voldemort sent a shiver through his spine.

"Are you alright?" Draco looked up. He'd been leaning against one of the many stone-paved walls that lined the maze of hallways in the Hogwarts dungeons, presumably alone; now that he looked up, however, he realized that he was far from it.

"Yes Blaise, I'm fine." He nodded his head to the other boy, "Nott."

"Hey Malfoy."

"What are you two doing down here?" He stepped towards them, keeping his voice and walk as casual as possible; they hadn't witnessed the scene in the Great Hall so if he played this right he might be able to get off without sticky explanations.

Blaise smiled deviously. "Having a little fun."

Nott shot him a dark look. "I was getting the answers for McGonagall's transfiguration homework."

"Splitting hairs," said Blaise, smirking.

"You're copying answers from Blaise? I'll assume then that everyone else was busy?"

"Shove off, Draco; transfiguration is one of my better subjects."

"Well then, I believe that makes Longbottom our next valedictorian."

"What are _you_ doing down here?" Blaise asked, ignoring the jab.

"I came to grab a few of my things…I'm going to the library."

"Good, we'll come with," offered Nott, placing some papers back in his bag.

"No actually I think I'm just going to go alone. I have to go the restricted section anyway and since neither of you are permitted well…it looks like it'll just be me."

"Right well I'll see you later then? Between these damn classes we're supposed to teach and all my homework I haven't seen you in ages."

"Miss ogling at my pretty face, Zabinni?"

"Draco! There you are!" What little color Draco had in his cheeks drained immediately as Pansy Parkinson approached them. "You made quite the spectacle! I imagine they'll be talking about _this_ one for a few weeks."

"What are you talking about?" Blaise asked.

"I'm leaving," said Draco, hurrying off down the hallway.

"Tell Potter I said hello!" She called after him, her giggles echoing after him as he sped off toward the library.

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Draco didn't go to the Library. He considered it, but then figured that the best way to avoid people was to go somewhere they never would. Even in the Library on a Saturday he was bound to run into some nervous first years or that insufferable mudblood, Granger. Well into October it was definitely cold outside, but he figured with a scarf and a good warming charm he'd do alright. Narrowly avoiding a group of gossiping Hufflepuffs, he managed to leave through one of the side exits so as to avoid the Great Hall.

A short walk later he was sitting in the Quiditch pitch stands, the same spot that he and Crabbe and Goyle always saved when watching the games. Now those two wouldn't talk to him for fear of getting associated with Lord Voldemort and he was sitting there alone wondering what to do now that he'd outed himself and his relationship with Harry Potter; things certainly had changed in just one year. He sighed; he didn't want to live like this anymore. Growing up he'd always adored his father, regardless of how he treated him, but now he was beginning to see that maybe his father might not have been as good an influence as he'd once thought. Emotions and morals and constant worrying over what was good and bad was an inconvenience, he was right about that; but what Lucius hadn't told Draco was that those things might actually have a purpose.

He'd been angry with Harry and he'd let that get bottled up and he exploded at him in front of basically the entire school. Now he and Harry were both out in the open and he couldn't take that back.

"Ugh…he must be furious with me," he sighed, propping his legs up on the barrier and resting his crossed arms over them.

"Must I?"

"Shit," said Draco, speaking into his knees so that his voice was muffled. Raising his head, he said, "It just figured that you'd show up here."

"Well," said Harry, taking a seat next to Draco and mimicking his pose, "actually I started in the Library, then a few other places, and eventually I decided to go up and send you an owl. But before I got all the way up the tower I saw you coming out here."

"How did you know it was me?"

"Draco, you have platinum hair."

"Right, that."

There was a pause, then Harry said, "so what do we do now?"

"Well…this sort of makes us official right? That's not an invitation for your Gryffindor friends to start talking to me. This whole people ignoring me thing is actually kind of nice…I don't want it ruined because people found out I'm doing the golden boy."

"We haven't really done anything."

"You know what I mean. I'm er…well…it sucks that people found out."

"Not really; all the sneaking around was getting old."

"Bet people aren't going to be happy with you."

"Please, when were they ever? Besides, this means that I can, you know…do boyfriend stuff with you."

"Potter!" said Draco, turning on him with a look of mock indignation. "What kind of girl do you think I am?"

They laughed and fell into silence once more, watching as the sun flirted with the skyline, threatening to retreat behind it at a moment's notice. "So does this mean I'll have to start liking Blaise and Pansy?"

"No, because I don't plan on liking weasel or mudbl—"

"Don't!"

Draco sighed. "Weasel or Granger.

"Ha! You _are_ softening up!"

"Shut it, Potter. I'm still an ass and you know it."

Harry smiled and leaned his head on Draco's shoulder. The blonde stiffened at first and debated telling him to back off, but after a few moments he found he really didn't _want_ Harry to back off. "Yeah," said Harry, chancing his luck and nuzzling a little further into Draco's neck, "but you're _my_ ass."


	15. Bury the Hatchet

**Title: **The Bleeding Eden

**Author: **toujouruspur

**Rating: **M

**Pairings: **Draco/Harry

**Disclaimer: **The usual: I'm not creatively responsible for anything in this story besides the plot and the people I make up. I don't think I'll be quoting from others, but if I do I'll mention it.

**Warnings: **Slash (Male/Male) and a partial disregard explained in the rehash section.

**Rehash:** Draco's angry outburst outed both he and Harry in front of the entire school; Harry visited Hagrid; Hermione told Harry that she didn't care about Draco and that Ron would need some time to adjust; Harry found Draco at the Quiditch Pitch and they watched the sunset together.

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A/N: Sorry again for the delayed update! Between my beta's busy schedule and all sorts of interesting complications in RL, things have been hectic! But, things are back on track (hopefully) so I'll do my best to crank out another chapter soon. In the mean time, enjoy!

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**Chapter Fifteen: Bury the Hatchet **

"Ron, I don't understand what the problem is!"

"The problem is that he's a bleeding poof and he never told me!"

"Well, maybe it was because he _knew_ you'd react…well, just the way you're reacting now."

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"I didn't!" Hermione sighed, frustrated at the pointless conversation she'd been carrying on for almost an hour now. "I'm simply saying that you might consider just letting this one go!"

Ron stared back at her, eyes lit with anger, fuming where he stood next to one of the many casually placed chairs that were scattered about the Gryffindor common room. He looked as if he were about to say something, but people began climbing sleepily down the stairs and out the portrait hole, carrying books and bags and crumpled up pieces of parchment.

"We'd better get to class or Lupin is going to have our heads. Besides, I needed to ask him a question about the essay he—" She stopped, suddenly aware of how silent the room had become. She turned, seeing that everyone had stopped moving in favor of staring at Harry, who was just leaving the portrait hole. "Oh, Harry, wait!" She picked up her bag and threw it over the shoulder, just making it out the portrait hole before the Fat Lady closed it behind her.

"Oh, hey Hermione."

"Don't give me that, where were you?"

He looked at her, confused. "When?"

"Last night!"

"Looking for Draco, you knew that."

"Yes but you didn't come back until after one!"

"How do you know?"

"Ron told me."

Harry scoffed. "Well, he's talking to you again at least."

"You could always try talking to him, you know?"

"About what? I haven't done anything wrong, Hermione. He's the one who should come to me and apologize. This is a big thing I'm going through and he's _supposed_ to be my friend about it; instead he just stares at me like the rest of them." He looked with distaste at a group of fourth year girls who'd taken to whispering to each other behind their hands.

"Well you probably should have told him before you told everyone else."

"I didn't _tell_ everyone else! Draco did and even he didn't mean to!"

"Didn't he?"

"Don't start with that, Hermione; you already said that you were willing to start over with him."

They rounded a corner onto the hallway with Lupin's classroom. "And I still am, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be cautious."

"He's not the same person he was, Hermione."

"I know that, it's plain to see but…just be careful, ok?" She opened the door. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"Ah, Harry! Hermione! You're here early!"

"Hello Professor Lupin!" Hermione said, placing her things at a desk near the front of the classroom. "Harry, don't be rude, say hi!"

"Yeah, alright Mrs. Weasley. Hello Professor."

"Hi, Harry. Now I wondered if I could talk with you."

_Here it comes, _thought Harry.

"I wanted to know if you could volunteer to help me this class. I've got a charm that I think you're—"

"Wait, hold on." Lupin looked at him expectantly. "You don't want to talk about…well, what happened?"

"If you're talking about Draco Malfoy's little outburst then no, I don't want to talk about it." He set down the papers he was looking through and glanced at him with such a fatherly expression on his face that it made Harry pang for Sirius. "Honestly, Harry, I can't see how it would matter. You're still the same person you ever were, and I happen to like that person. Now, if you'll come over here I'll show you what I need."

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Harry set his backpack down, smiling. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.

"Alright, Zabinni, what do you want?"

"What do I want?"

Draco rounded on the doe-eyes Italian, seething. "Yes, what do you want? You've just found out from that bitch Parkinson that I've been seeing Harry Potter and now you're telling me it doesn't matter. I'm not a damn Hufflepuff, I'm a _Slytherin_! I know how to tell when someone's trying to keep on my good side. But what I _can't_ tell is why you are. So, back to the question; what is it that you want so much that you'll pretend, unconvincingly, that this doesn't matter?"

"Are you serious? If I were above that, I'd be offended, but honestly Draco I'm not looking for anything. If this does anything for your standing among the Slytherins, it'll be a good thing. You've gone from the dark and twisty weirdo who tried to off the headmaster to the respectable gent so capable of letting bygones be bygones that he's willing to _fuck_ his ex arch rivals."

"We're not fucking, Blaise, so stop saying that we are."

"Fine; he's willing to _get intimate_ with his ex arch rivals."

Draco huffed. "You're impossible."

Blaise offered him a toothy grin, very unlike him, and motioned for them to continue their way to class. "Come on, if we're late Professor Tonks is gonna kill us."

"Like you're going to pass the class either way."

"Still, it's good to keep up appearances."

"Well, one of us has to."

"Oh no, don't start with that 'pity me' Gryffindor garbage."

"You know that appearances mean something to me, and always have. I'm a Slytherin and a Malfoy; appearances and an incredible amount of talent and monetary assets are all I have going for me."

"Don't forget your supreme modesty."

"Yeah, and my ability to pass a basic potions class."

"It's N.E.W.T.!"

"It's E.A.S.Y.!"

"Seriously though, how'd you end up fucking—"

"We're not—"

"—being intimated with Potter?"

"Well, first I slipped him an aphrodisiac potion and then I locked him in a broom closet and had my way with him."

"Always subtle, that Draco Malfoy."

"You're just jealous you didn't think of it first."

"I am, a little…"

Blaise was joking, but Draco knew better than to let that comment slide. Blaise was a person who wanted very little out of life; but what he did want he _had_ to have. _Draco, remember to tell Harry to avoid the horny Italian_. There, that should take care of that, shouldn't it? Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all…

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By the end of the week, Harry was _certain_ that the gossip would have boiled down to a healthy "talk about it in passing" level, but he was wrong. Every student seemed just as keen to whisper behind their hands and watch him shamelessly as he walked by. He'd taken to avoiding the Great Hall, preferring to take his meals from the Kitchens and sneak them outside or into the Library when Madame Pince wasn't looking. This earned him mixed sentiments from his fellow Gryffindors, some telling him they missed him when they saw him for a few brief moments after a class and others yelling after him "If one more howler explodes in my breakfast—!"

What he hadn't counted on was rarely ever seeing Draco; he didn't really consider that classes and mealtimes were the only times he ever saw him, and without making plans to meet they hadn't bumped into each other in a few days.

"There you are! I've been looking all over, listen, I've found some information about the founders that you might find interesting."

Harry snapped out of his thinking and blinked up at Hermione, who was bearing down on him in a mass of brown fuzzy hair and books. She collapsed next to him, letting some of the books slide a little across the floor so that they spread out and he could see their titles. He picked one up. "_Goblin Warlords of the 1700s_? How is this going to give you information about the founders?"

"Oh, you'd be surprised the things you can find when you really look. Did you know that Helga Hufflepuff is believed to have been a famous muggle opera singer in disguise?"

"_Really?"_

"Yes! It was in, oh which book was that…" She scanned the titles, running her fingers over them as she searched, before she snapped up again. "Oh, but that's not what I wanted to tell you! We think that one of the Horcruxes belonged to either Rowena Ravenclaw or Godric Gryffindor right?"

"Right."

"Well, Dumbledore said that he's almost positive that Gryffindor's only remaining belonging is that sword he keeps hanging in his office, so I started to really look up information around Ravenclaw. Eventually, I came upon this legend that involved her and Salazar Slytherin." She flipped open one of the books and ran her finger down the page until she found it. "Ok, so it talks about how many believed that the reason things soured between the founders was actually due to a romantic tryst that took place between two of them.

"Then I found this which says….where is it...ah, yes, 'It is believed that Salazar had fallen in love with Rowena. He presented her gifts, favored her in the founders' decision making, and some legends go so far as to say that he wrote her _poetry_. Although, despite his efforts, Salazar was never able to woo the reluctant Ravenclaw, who is instead believed to have loved Godric Gryffindor. The legend goes that Rowena wrote to Salazar explaining that he was a brilliant and lovable man, but that her heart belonged to Godric and she could never truly love Salazar.

"'Slytherin kept the letter as a reminder of his foolishness in believing that true love existed and used it to fuel his motivation to perfect his students and his school. He found, as time went on, that the other founders did not share in his fervor; also his resentment grew towards Rowena and Godric, despite the fact that there is no evidence that a true relationship ever existed. Rowena's letter is believed to still be hidden somewhere today, most likely in a place that only Salazar would know to look.' Which I thought meant—"

"The Chamber of Secrets!" Harry said, suddenly.

"Yes! This letter would appear, at least to Voldemort, as a symbol of Salazar's true devotion to bettering _himself_ and casting off others. Which, unless I'm completely mistaken, seems to be an MO of Voldemort's."

"So we need to find a way to get into the Chamber…hm…I'd better talk to Dumbledore about this."

"Has he scheduled another meeting?"

"No, not yet, but I can always schedule one myself."

"Well, I'm not positive, but I'm pretty sure this could be a horcrux."

"Great work, Hermione, I was—"

"Excuse me." They looked up to the man who'd just approached them, a wizard in emerald robes with gold silk circling around his cuffs and collar. On his chest was a symbol Harry had never seen; a crest with a decorative "A". "Are you Hermione Granger?"

"Yes…" Hermione watched apprehensively as a second man approached behind the first; dressed similarly only with silver instead of gold and a "B" in place of the "A". "What is this about?"

"I'd just like to ask you a few questions if that's alright. My name is Wolfric Dreed, I'm heading the committee that's investigating the death of your fellow classmate, Lavender Brown."

"Ok, then," she still seemed a little nervous.

"Nothing personal, we're just asking questions of those who knew Lavender; you shared a dorm room, isn't that correct?"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione, calming down considerably.

"Right then. Where were you when Miss Brown's body was discovered?"

"In my potions lesson."

"And before that?"

"Doing homework."

Harry watched as the man continued to ask her questions; he was slightly troubled by the way the man's eyes never left Hermione's.

"Alright, last question. Do you know of anyone who would want to cause harm to Lavender Brown?"

"No, I didn't much care for her and neither did most of the other girls, but none of us would want to _hurt_ her."

The man didn't move for a few seconds, face frozen, and then he gave a quick smile and stood up once more. "Well, thank you for you time, Miss Granger."

As he left, Harry turned to Hermione. "What was that about?"

"I don't know…but I think he was using Occlumency…"

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Harry had not been looking forward to this; his first class to teach since Draco's big announcement. He looked over the class list again, spotting a few familiar names: Seamus Finnegan…Pansy Parkinson…and most dreadfully of all, Ginny Weasley. Penelope had told them all at the meeting that some of their classes weren't picking up as well on the jelly-legs jinx they'd been practicing; and, with Lavender no longer teaching, they needed time to find a replacement so it was best to stick to what they'd been doing.

Seamus was the first to arrive. "Alright, Harry?" He asked as he moved into the classroom, setting his things down on one of the many spare desks that had been pushed aside.

"Er…yeah." He hadn't been expecting this; Seamus was acting almost as if nothing was happening. But when he turned around and Harry saw his face he knew that he was only quiet because he was nervous.

"What are we learning today?"

"Jelly-legs again, I think."

"Oh, ok."

Their awkward conversation was cut short when Ginny walked into the room.

"Hi Ginny," they both said as she set her things next to Seamus'.

"Hello Seamus," she said, pointedly keeping her stare away from Harry. Before he could say anything more, though, Seamus shot him a nervous glance and more people began filing in, setting down their things and standing around expectantly. Eventually when they had all come in, Harry cleared his throat for them to quiet.

"Right, now we decided to keep working on the Jelly-legs jinx, so if any of you were in last week's class you should already know this one. For those of you who don't, though, I'll go over it again. It's pretty simple—"

"—Yeah, so simple a fag could do it."

The room quieted save for a few snickers and Harry looked at the boy who'd just spoke; he was short, a little pudgy, and his green and silver striped tie was smudged with what looked like dirt.

"Alright," said Harry, "I've changed my mind. We're not going to work on the jelly legs jinx; today, we're working on the Patronus charm. Now, a volunteer…let's see…ah, you." He pointed at the pudgy boy, who stared back with a cocky expression.

"Can't be too hard if you can manage, right?" he said, earning more snickers.

Harry smiled, "Right. Now if you'll all just make room please…" He withdrew his wand and shouted the incantation, summoning forth a stag-shaped body of light that leaped out the tip of his wand. When it moved and trotted to his side, he saw the boy's cocky face now full of fear. "Ok," said Harry, pocketing his wand casually. "Your turn."

The boy stepped forward and pulled out his wand, raising it and stuttering, "Exp-pecto Pat-tronum!" Nothing happened. He repeated the incantation once…twice…three times until he lost his patience and began waving his wand violently and shouting the spell over and over. Eventually a faint wisp of light puffed out, but it died shortly after.

"Well, if that's the best you can do, out of my class."

"You can't tell me what to—!"

Harry's patronus took a threatening step forward and the boy walked swiftly to the door. "Oh!" said Harry, pulling out his wand once more and giving it a quick flick. "You forgot your things!" They went zooming into him so that he slammed into the door. Furious, the boy grabbed his bag and left, leaving behind a class of laughing students.

"Ok, so if anyone else has a problem with being taught by a poof…?" No one said anything. "Right, so let's get started."

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"You did _what?_"

"I kicked him out, literally and figuratively. He was being an ass!"

"I know, but don't you think that was a bit much?"

"Give it a rest, Hermione; if you'd been there you would have done the same thing. I'm not going to walk around this school and have people talk to me like that. I did it all of fifth year and in fourth after the goblet of fire thing and I'm not about to do it again."

"I suppose…but couldn't you have just _said_ something to him?"

"Hermione."

"Fine, I'll stop. My class went well, by the way. Nothing to mention."

"Then maybe you can mention why Ginny won't speak to me?"

Hermione looked down. "I don't know…"

"You two talk about everything, just tell me."

She looked up at him, something close to pity in her eyes. "She's upset because you didn't tell her."

"What is it with that family? It's like they want a personal briefing on all my developments before anyone else has a chance to hear them, it's insane!" He threw the last of his toast into the lake and watched it soak up and sink.

"Her reasoning is that you should have known when you two…did anything together."

"I knew something wasn't right, but I didn't think it was _this_!"

"That's all I know, you're just going to have to talk to her about it."

"Well I'm going to head up to see Dumbledore I guess."

"Oh, I wanted to go too, tell him what I found."

"Alright, why don't you go on ahead, I've got something I've got to do first anyway."

She started walking back along the lake towards the castle. "Fine. Say hi to Draco for me!" Before he could protest she was out of earshot.

Harry found Draco at the Quiditch pitch, books strewn all around him as he scanned pages and made notes on a piece of parchment at his side. "This has become somewhat of a haunt of yours, hasn't it?"

Draco looked up and smiled briefly before turning back to his book. "Haunt? What's that, an 'I'm so pale I'm like a ghost' reference?"

Harry sat down outside his circle of papers and books and said, "I like your pale skin."

"Flattery? Trying to get me to put out?"

Harry blushed at his forwardness. "No! Just coming to see where you were."

"Now you know."

"Something up, you don't seem happy to see me?"

Draco sighed and looked up. "I told you, Harry, I'm not a witch. Don't expect me to leap into your arms when I see you in the hallways."

"This isn't a hallway, it's an abandoned Quiditch pitch; and besides, I haven't seen you all week, I guess I was expecting…something."

"Something like me putting out, something?"

"We've covered this."

"Right, no sex. Well then," he made one last note on the parchment before closing the book in his lap and looking up, "how can I help you?"

Harry leaned forward and kissed him, brining a hand to his cheek. When he sat back Draco cleared a space, so he moved to sit next to him, snaking an arm around the thinner boy's waist. Feeling him stiffen, he asked, "something wrong?"

"I'm new to all these touchy-feely Gryffindor sentiments. We aren't a hugging people."

Harry smiled. "We've got to set up a time to meet…at least sometime before next weekend."

"Well, isn't next weekend a Hogsmeade trip?"

"Yeah, for prefects and teachers."

"So we can have some fun there, right? I need a few new pairs of robes anyway…some new clothes should really brighten things up around here, at least for me. And you, since I'm sure you'll be staring."

"Have some fun there?" Harry laughed. "You've changed a lot, you know?"

"Not really. You'd be surprised, when I'm hanging around with people I like I'm actually quite pleasant."

"No you aren't! I saw you in your carriage last year and you seemed just like you always do!"

"I knew you were there."

"Not until the end!"

"Give me some credit; I saw your feet fly through the door after Zabinni came back in."

Harry blushed. "Oh, well still, where should we meet this week?"

"How about the Great Hall?"

"Er…that's a little more public than I had in mind but ok. What time?"

"Let's say…Monday at six o'clock?"

"But people will be eating dinner then."

"Yes, they will, and so will we…" Harry looked confused. "Together. At the same table…for Merlin's sake, Potter, I'm saying we should eat together on Monday."

"But you said that—"

"—That I didn't want to go around flaunting the relationship, right, well it seems I've already done that so now we're at the part where we don't have to sneak around. So, dinner on Monday. My table or yours?"

"Er…mine…"

"Ok, then I'll expect you there, outside the hall, at six right?"

"Er…right…"

"Right. Ok, it was great seeing you but I've got to get this done so…go destroy things with that oaf or something." Harry pulled his arm back and made to stand but Draco pulled him down and turned his face so that it was looking at his. "No kiss goodbye?" Harry kissed him absentmindedly and stood, still al little confused.

"Right er…well I've got to go see Dumbledore. Monday then…" He turned to go and Draco shook his head, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like: "_Gryffindors…"_

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_

By the time Harry reached the twin Gargoyles he realized that he didn't know the password. "Er…Acid Pops?" Nothing. "Pepper Imps, Ice Mice, Licorice Wands, Cockroach Clusters—" The Gargoyles pulled aside. Harry muttered "_Gross_" beneath his breath before climbing the stairs. When he reached the top, however, he saw that the door was already open. Just as he was about to enter two wizards, the ones he'd seen in the Library earlier, exited, one of them guiding Hermione, her eyes red and puffy as if she'd been crying, in front of him.

"Hey, wait!" he called, but they didn't stop. Desperate, he entered Dumbledore's office. "What's going on?"

"Harry, I understand you're one of my more favored guests but that doesn't mean you don't need to knock; it's only polite."

"What are they doing with Hermione?" he repeated.

"Ah, yes, that…well…Miss Granger has been placed under arrest."

"For _what_?"

"The murder of Lavender Brown."


	16. UPDATE!

I'm so sorry for the SERIOUS lack of dedication to this story for the past….oh, year or so. BUT, I'm back to writing and I hope to update chapters ASAP. Thanks for reading!

-TJP


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